Keep Breathing
by Yesac
Summary: Padme doesn't die at the end of Revenge of the Sith. Instead, she decides to take the twins and join Obi-Wan in exile.
1. Chapter 1

He was gone.

He'd vanished, consumed by the dark. It had swallowed him up so completely that even if part of him still existed, she doubted she would ever find it. It wasn't worth looking. Nothing was worth doing.

The knowledge ached.

Those thoughts strangled something deep inside of her, so deep that whatever it was seemed to be synched with her heart, and as it was strangled, her heart was, too. She could feel the beats slowing, her _body_ slowing, and all she could do was picture her husband's face, livid, and so full of hate as he stood in front of her, choking her.

She cried out as pain seared through her.

"It's a boy."

"Luke," she gasped through the haze of agony, pulling back from her dream world for just a few moments—long enough to stare at the baby pushed towards her. It gave her relief, and for a few seconds, it wasn't Anakin's face she saw before her.

Another sharp pain followed, accompanied by the announcement that this next baby was a girl. "Leia," she murmured, recalling how she and Anakin had so carefully picked those names. She'd known she was having twins, but she'd wanted to surprise him… except he wasn't here to surprise. He never would be again.

"Padme."

The voice above her was sharp and concerned, but she didn't want to hear it. She simply wanted to slip back into her dream world where nothing hurt, and she didn't have to think. She could feel her body dying, and it was peaceful. She didn't want to leave that.

"Your children _need_ you, Padme! You can't do this just because it's easy."

How could he say that? He didn't _know_. He didn't understand what it was like to have the man you loved turn on you—to attack you. Anakin. Pain shot through her again, but it wasn't from childbirth. This pain was all from the knowledge that her husband had betrayed her, and this voice above her didn't understand how much that hurt.

"Are you going to abandon your babies like he abandoned _you_?"

No. That wasn't it at all, and suddenly her heart beat a little more strongly. Anger had that effect.

She opened her eyes.

"Padme," Obi-Wan murmured, pushing Luke a little closer to her. "They _need_ you."

She wanted to tell him that he didn't understand, except as the fog that had such a hold on her mind began to clear, she realized that he probably _did_. Obi-Wan had loved Anakin, and Anakin had tried to kill him.

He understood… and, unlike her, the knowledge wasn't driving him to give up.

The fog around her mind cleared a little further. Her heart strengthened its beat.

Carefully, Obi-Wan came around behind her, supporting her arms as he settled Luke into them. Her baby was warm and solid, and so real. He was _beautiful_.

"Don't make them live without their mother, Padme," Obi-Wan murmured from behind her. "Don't do that to them."

"He's gone, Obi-Wan."

Anakin was gone, and she couldn't seem to get beyond that. Tears clouded her vision, slipping down her cheeks and falling as she clutched her baby closer, trying not to think about his father. _Anakin, why?_

Padme had known from the moment that she woke to Obi-Wan standing over her that Anakin wasn't coming back. She'd asked anyway, and Obi-Wan's non-answer had been answer enough. Her Ani wasn't coming home. In all actuality, he wasn't even her Ani anymore, and to know was the worst thing of all.

She remembered Obi-Wan carrying her off the ship and to a medicenter. She'd been there ever since, and the longer she'd lain on this table, consumed in her own thoughts, the further she'd sunk into her depression until it had seeped into her physically, attacking her vital organs. It wasn't a disease that could be fought. It was simply the power of grief overcoming voluntary functions. It was real, and it was possible—it was simply losing the will to live, as cliché as it sounded.

"But your children _are_ here."

Her children. Again, she focused on the warm weight in her arms. Her baby's name was Luke, and he was beautiful. Somewhere, he had a sister, named Leia. She was probably beautiful, too.

Obi-Wan's logic was so simple, but so right. He was _right. _She'd lost Anakin, but to let herself die because of it would be as selfish as what Anakin had done. She couldn't leave these children alone.

"You have to live, Padme," Obi-Wan whispered, each word pulling her a little bit closer to reality—to her children.

"Yes." The words drifted past her lips, soft and feathery, quiet enough that she wasn't certain Obi-Wan heard them. It didn't matter. He was still right.

And because he was, she would live.

* * *

"Blast!"

From where she was seated at the table, Padme watched as Obi-Wan did his best to try to feed Luke his breakfast. Her son seemed to have other ideas.

At eight months old, the twins were already a handful, and Padme was eternally grateful for Obi-Wan's help. The first time that Luke accidentally shattered glass with his mind during a tantrum had been enough for her to admit that she wasn't capable of raising Force-sensitive children on her own.

And it had become quite clear that the children _were_ Force-sensitive… like their father.

It hadn't taken Padme long to figure out who the black-suited figure at Sidious's side was. Even if she hadn't been able to deduce it herself, Obi-Wan's reaction to the propaganda concerning him that they'd encountered while fleeing to their new home in exile would have given it away. He'd never said anything, but the pain and regret on his face had let her know that what was left of Anakin was encased in that suit… and that Obi-Wan had put him there.

"Brat," Obi-Wan muttered as he wiped from his clothing the lumps of porridge Luke had dropped. His tone may have sounded cross, but the good-natured twist of his lips gave him away.

"We're getting low on food again," she said conversationally as she switched Leia to her other arm. It amazed her how much the twins had grown in the past few months—they were both beginning to feel heavy when carried.

Obi-Wan nodded. "I'll make a run to one of the cites in a few days."

It was always a different city every time. Obi-Wan never went to the same place twice without allowing a good deal of time to elapse between each visit. So far, no one had noticed him. With his beard shaved and with different clothes, he no longer looked enough like the hero of the Clone Wars to be identified by someone who didn't know him. Plus, here on Alderaan, no one was looking.

To Padme, he still always looked like Obi-Wan. She was sure that he'd appear recognizable to anyone who knew him well, simply because there was no way to hide that gentle smile and those kind eyes. She feared the day when someone recognized him.

Irritated at suddenly being ignored, Luke reached out and pulled at Obi-Wan's tunic, laughing at the food stains. "Bwan! Bwan!"

"Obi-Wan, Luke," Padme corrected patiently, reaching out to run a finger down her son's chubby cheek.

Luke gave her a toothless grin. "Bwan!"

Obi-Wan laughed. Seeming entirely at ease, he leaned forward in his chair and reached down to get another spoonful of food for Luke. "It's all right, Padme. Obi-Wan is difficult to pronounce for an eight-month-old baby. It's really quite impressive that he can make out even that much."

"Yes, I guess it is."

Though he was still grabbing at Obi-Wan's tunic, this time Luke accepted the mouthful of food. Leia, apparently wanting to follow her brother's example, closed her mouth around the spoonful that Padme offered her as well. "Good job," Padme praised, grinning as she stroked her daughter's dark hair. It was getting longer. Soon she might be able to tie back a few tufts of it. "Seems they know which of us not to play games with," she joked, eyeing the food stain on Obi-Wan's clothing.

"You're their mother. They _know_ that you're the one who makes the rules."

Only, his teasing wasn't entirely true. Obi-Wan was as particular about the twins' safety as she was, and he had no qualms about forbidding them to do something if he felt it put them at risk. She had no doubt that if she chose to override him in his opinions, he'd allow it, but she'd never tried. His rules stood just as firmly as her rules did.

Obi-Wan may not have regarded himself as entirely a part of their family, but Padme knew better. He was everything Anakin was not here to be. He was the one who helped put the babies to bed, who fed them, and who played with them. Obi-Wan was, though perhaps not in name and likely not even consciously, playing at being their father.

And Padme let him. She _encouraged_ it.

"Have I said something wrong?"

Padme hadn't realized she was frowning until faced with Obi-Wan's worried tone. "No, Obi-Wan—I just—I was only thinking."

"Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

She could very well imagine him saying those same words to a younger Anakin. Had they ever talked about Anakin's obvious infatuation with her? She knew Obi-Wan had at least known about his padawan's feelings, though not about their marriage and the subsequent pregnancy. "Just about... Anakin."

The way the glow in his eyes seemed to slowly flicker and die reminded Padme of a light being extinguished by the wind. "Oh."

"He should be here. If things had been different, he'd be doing all the things that you are."

Obi-Wan's shoulders stiffened. "I'm very sorry if I've overstepped my bounds—"

"No! No, Obi-Wan, that's not it at all! I'm so grateful for your help. I couldn't do any of this without you."

"But?" Slowly, he raised another spoonful of food to Luke's mouth. The food was accepted without a mess this time; Luke seemed to have sensed the shift in the mood and realized that playtime was over.

"These children need a father, Obi-Wan. And, as much as I wish it were, it's not going to be Anakin."

She didn't like the way he dipped his head, looking away from her for a few moments as if he were seeing something entirely separate from their real surroundings. He looked so far away. He probably was—Force knew she had enough memories of Anakin to make reality blur at times; surely it wasn't so different for Obi-Wan. "No," he agreed finally. "It's not. And I am very sorry for that."

More than likely, he was recalling what had happened with Anakin on Mustafar. She had never asked how the fight had ended. She only knew that whatever had happened had resulted in Anakin becoming more machine than man. But now... now she was beginning to think that maybe Obi-Wan needed to talk about it. He had loved Anakin just as much as she had; whatever had taken place to damage Anakin had clearly destroyed a part of Obi-Wan as well.

"Let's put the babies down for their nap."

He nodded, reaching over to pull Luke out of his chair. It was almost fascinating how naturally he reached for a wet cloth to wipe away the grime that had settled on Luke's face. Everything about it was paternal.

After quickly changing the babies' clothes and diapers, they tucked the infants into their respective cribs. For the first time in what felt like weeks, the twins went down without a fuss.

"They have a strong sense of the Force, you know," Obi-Wan declared a little wryly as they left the babies' room. "They sensed the shift in the mood and adjusted accordingly." With a heavy sigh, he sank down on the sofa in their small sitting room. "They're going to be powerful when they get older."

"And will you train them?"

He glanced at her in surprise. "That is a decision that belongs entirely to _you_."

Not for the first time, the room around her seemed entirely too small. Everything about this place that they were living—this tiny three-room house—sometimes felt too small. It wasn't that she didn't like Obi-Wan's presence—quite the opposite, actually—but in times like these, it would have been nice to walk across a large room and glance out a window, just to buy herself some time. Here, there was nowhere to go and nothing to look at but the man in front of her.

"Obi-Wan, you've been as involved with them as I have. You help feed them, clothe them, bathe them—"

"I'm not their father, Padme."

She paused, considering that. No, he wasn't. But... "You could be."

Silence. Neither of them looked away. Padme wasn't sure she wanted to, and was positive that even if she did wish to, she _couldn't_, not when there were so many emotions dancing in Obi-Wan's eyes, pain and loss prominent among them. Sometimes, he looked so broken—nearly as broken as she felt. What a pair they made.

"I—Padme, I am not Anakin, and I never will be," he finally whispered, his voice hoarse as he ran a hand through his hair. It sounded as though he wanted to cry but simply wouldn't let himself. "I can't give him back to you and the children, no matter how much I wish I could."

The pain on his face—in his eyes—was enough to make her reach out and lay a hand on his arm, sincerely wanting to comfort him. If it had been anyone else—anyone who wasn't Obi-Wan or her children—she might have just turned away. After everything that had happened, she wasn't sure she had it in her to comfort anyone beyond that. "What happened on Mustafar, Obi-Wan? What happened between you two?"

"Padme..."

"No. I _want_ to know."

His other hand joined the first in his hair as he leaned over and cradled his head in his hands. "There's not much to tell. We fought. I got the high ground. He refused to yield and tried something foolish. I... did what I had to. And then I walked away."

"But he was still alive. How was he still alive?"

Obi-Wan slid a hand over his face. "Padme, don't make me tell you this. Just—just remember him how he was. Trust me, please, it's better that way."

"And let you suffer this all by yourself?"

"I am the one who _deserves_ to suffer it. You don't deserve to have to live with knowing."

"And neither do you. Anakin's choices were Anakin's alone, and while there are things we all could have done differently, neither of us is responsible. This isn't some penitence that you have to pay for Anakin's fall, Obi-Wan. You aren't responsible." Her voice trailed off for a few moments. Most of her believed that. Still, there was that niggling voice, whispering that it had been her fault, that he'd done it all for her… She pushed it away and said, "Tell me what happened, Obi-Wan. At the end."

He was crying now, she was sure, even if his hands hid any tears that might have been falling.

"Please, Obi-Wan. All I can do is ask you. I can't make you, but I _want_ to know."

He didn't speak at first, but just rubbed his forehead with his palm, drawing deep breaths as he worked to calm his breathing. When he finally did speak, his voice came out shaky and choked with tears. "He tried to jump over me. But I had the high ground, and I—I swung. The blade caught his three remaining limbs, and then he fell down towards the lava. I—Padme, he looked at me and told me that he hated me, and all I could think was how much I had loved him—how much I _still_ loved him. Then he caught fire, and started to burn, but I couldn't stand to see him die, so I walked away. I left him there. I—I just _left_—"

She hardly even realized she was moving as he stuttered off into silence. It was just... simply what needed to happen. Reaching out to gently pull him against her chest seemed as natural as walking or breathing, and when he curled in against her, sobbing quietly into her shoulder, she knew that what she'd done was right. This was what they needed—what they _both_ needed.

"It wasn't your fault," she whispered, tears of her own leaking out and spilling down her cheeks. "It wasn't, Obi-Wan, and if Anakin had been in his right mind, he would have told you the same thing."

And he would have. She was sure he would have. For the sake of her memory of the man her husband had been, she needed to believe that.

She wasn't sure how long they sat like that, silently crying the tears that should have been shed far before now. For minutes on end, she simply stroked his hair and back, holding him as he in turn held her. It was so needed, so right to be doing this together. They were the two people that had known Anakin best, and they would both need each other to heal from the things that he had done.

When Obi-Wan finally pulled away from her, Padme wasn't sure how much time had passed. It didn't truly matter—it had been enough. "Thank you," he muttered quietly, meeting her eye with a kind of resolve that she couldn't help but admire.

"You aren't Anakin, Obi-Wan," she murmured, her voice hoarse from crying. "And I don't want you to be. You don't need to be. But I do _need_ you. These children need you. You told me that in the medicenter, and I'm telling _you_ that now. Anakin can't be here to be their father, and if he were still himself, I know that there is no one in the world that he would have wanted to stand in his stead more than you."

"Padme... I don't know if I can. I don't know if I can be what they need."

"But _I_ know you can. And that's all that matters."

He was silent, long enough that she began to think that he wouldn't answer. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he gave a tiny nod. It was just the faintest of movements, but it was a decision that would change so much.

It would change things for the better, she hoped.

"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, if it's what you want."

"It is."

And it was.


	2. Chapter 2

Estora: Thanks for the comments on style. I'm flattered and honored that you think so. :) Like I say below in the author's note, I don't usually ship Padme and Obi-Wan, but since it's an AU, I'm giving it a shot.

Littlefists: I'm very glad that you enjoyed _Fire and Ice_ enough to give this story a shot. _Fire and Ice_ is kind of my baby, so it's nice to hear that you liked it. :)

Moonstar 11: I was dissatisfied with Padme's death in ROTS, as well. I wouldn't go so far as to say it was out of character—love can make people do strange things—but I had a difficult time buying that she'd leave her children like that.

ObiBettina7: I thought she was stronger in Episode One and Two, also. I wish they'd kept in the deleted scenes in Episode Three that showed her planning to go against Palpatine. That seemed more like her.

Chasing Liquor: I always wondered how Obi-Wan dealt with everything all alone on Tatooine. I suppose Qui-Gon must have helped him, but it still must have been hard to be mostly alone and have all the time in the world to think and dwell on what happened.

Pronker: I thought a change of setting might be interesting.

Anakinpadmekenobi: I thought it could be fun to play around with the idea of Obi-Wan, Padme, and the twins altogether.

A/N: This is a pairing I usually don't explore. Actually, I really dislike Obi-Wan/Padme if it's not done as an AU. Basically, I think it's completely divergent from both of their characters. Whether you love or hate Anakin, Padme cares about him enough in canon to die because she loses him—it seems completely out of character to me to think that, in the context of ROTS, she would cheat on Anakin, with Obi-Wan of all people. In regards to Obi-Wan, if you accept the Expanded Universe canon, he's already given up love to be a Jedi. He's not going to randomly pull a turnabout with Padme. Plus, there's no way he wouldn't know what that would do to Anakin, and as frustrated as he gets with him, it's pretty clear that he cares about his former padawan. In short, I've seen good authors pull off this pairing, but it's certainly not my first choice when done within the bounds of ROTS.

However, as an AU pairing, I thought it would be fun to explore. :) So, here I go with an attempt.

The second part of my disclaimer: I usually don't enjoy writing romance of this sort, because I'm not a fan of casual, unmarried sex. Plus, I'm not comfortable writing something like that anyway: you won't ever see me writing scenes that go beyond kissing. Also, just because I write a character doing something doesn't mean I think it's right in actual life.

My actual disclaimer: Lucas owns it all. More's the pity for me.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm a busy college student who doesn't have lots of time, so I do my best to respond to the reviews that make particular comments... but I certainly appreciate everyone else's, too!

* * *

"Leia, give that back to your brother."

"But, Mommy, I had it first!"

"Leia—"

There were days when it seemed to Padme that the children fought constantly, giving her more of a headache than the bureaucrats in the Senate used to. It was especially bad when Obi-Wan was gone; he was so much better at successfully resolving debates between the children. Apparently, his expertise as "the negotiator" extended to his family life as well. And the children were always worse when he was gone, bickering over the littlest things…

"She did not!" Luke protested loudly, his tiny eyes going wide at what Padme knew was Leia's lie.

Setting aside the datapad she'd been reading, she tiredly pushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and turned her full attention to the children. "Leia, give it back to him. And don't lie."

"Mommy—"

"_Now_, Leia, and if I catch you lying again there will be consequences."

Scowling, Leia did as told.

Some days, Padme could hardly believe that the children were twins. As shy and sweet as Luke was, Leia was bold and opinionated, even at three years old. She acted first and thought later, but she had a good heart; she was just so like Anakin that at times it hurt Padme to think about it. Luke... Luke was, ironically, more how she had been as a child. He was quiet, but he took in everything around him and was typically the one who helped his sister out of any scrapes that her brashness got her into. Together they made a good pair, and she suspected that if they'd been allowed to play with other children, they would be a formidable force to be reckoned with.

"Mommy, Daddy's home!"

Immediately, her datapad slipped through her hands and clattered to the ground. The children never noticed—they were already rushing toward the door, their tiny legs moving as fast as they could.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

The moment that Obi-Wan opened the door, Leia flew into his arms, latching on with a fierceness that Padme was well-aware sprouted from his week-long absence. Obi-Wan seemed to have missed them just as much. Smiling, he knelt down and allowed both her and Luke to cling to him. Both wrapped their arms around his neck, seeming intent on never letting go.

In times like these, Padme knew she'd made the correct decision in asking Obi-Wan to act as their father.

"Daddy! You're back!" Luke exclaimed, grinning. "You're home!"

Obi-Wan laughed. "If this is the greeting I get, I should go into the city more often," he teased, picking them up. They giggled happily, hanging on.

Once he had a twin securely in each arm, Obi-Wan turned to look at her. "Padme," he greeted, his tone softer, more subdued. There wasn't the same lightness in his eyes when he looked at her—not like when he regarded the children—but there was_ something_ there. It was deeper, more complicated, but just as important, and whatever it was, a small smile softened it until she knew it at least contained an element of affection.

"You were longer than you said you were going to be."

"I know. I'm sorry. Bail needed some help with—"

She rose from her seat, moving to where Obi-Wan was holding the twins. Luke and Leia seemed to have recognized the mood and had gone quiet, resting their heads against Obi-Wan's chest. "You know I don't like it when you get involved with Bail's... activities."

He looked away. "I know, Padme, but if the Emperor is to ever be defeated, someone has to do _something_."

"I know. But not you. You—" How could she possibly explain that she wanted his first priority to be her and the twins? How could she ask him to put first a family that wasn't even really his?

She didn't need to explain. Somehow he seemed to know what she was thinking. He always seemed to find a way to know, and it was, she was sure, nothing to do with the Force. Anakin never could do that. This ability to understand what she was thinking—it was purely Obi-Wan. "My first obligation is to you and the twins."

"I—Obi-Wan, I can't ask that—"

"And I won't make you. It just how things are."

Leia saved her from having to answer. "Daddy?" Slowly, Leia reached out and gently put a hand on either side of Obi-Wan's face, smoothing her fingers lightly over his cheeks. She didn't remember a time when there had been a beard there, but Padme did, and with that memory came other... less benign ones.

"Yes?"

"Have you been doing dangerous stuff?"

For a three-year-old, she was remarkably astute. She was also the more vocal of the two twins, but not exclusively the more intelligent; if Leia knew that Obi-Wan was doing something dangerous, Luke must as well.

"Nothing that will stop me from coming home to you and your mommy."

That was, Padme knew, more for her benefit than it was for Leia's. Unfortunately, she wasn't entirely sure she believed him. Anakin had said he would come home, too.

Leia's face scrunched up in a picture of childish thought. "Good. We need you." Wiggling a little, Luke nodded his assent against Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"I know you're not convinced, Padme," he said slowly, meeting her gaze, "but Bail needs help. And I am obligated to give him the assistance that he needs."

Obligation. Always obligation. "You aren't responsible for... the state of things, Obi-Wan. Stop trying to atone." The words came out a little sharper than she'd intended, but she was tired of this—tired of his inability to let go of his guilt for what had happened to Anakin... though, not nearly as tired as she was of her _own_ inability to do exactly the same thing.

Surprisingly, his face softened. "We can't hide forever, Padme."

"I—yes, we can. Alderaan is safe. He won't come looking here. We're two days journey from any settlements, and no one knows where we are—"

"Vader is smart, Padme. And even if he doesn't find us, we can't expect _everyone_ in this family to hide forever."

He was speaking of the twins, of course—and he was right. She knew he was. Luke and Leia, as much as she wanted to protect them, had a destiny, and though she wasn't Force-sensitive, she could already feel that it was going to be a great one. Someday, they would no longer remain anonymous.

Thankfully, that day was not today.

"I'm glad you're home."

Carefully, he walked over to the sofa and set the twins down on it, settling beside them. As soon as he did, they both climbed into his lap, latching onto him once again. They would, she knew, be very reluctant to let him out of their sight for the next few days.

"I'm glad to be home," he admitted with a smile. "The supplies are in the storage shed. I'll bring everything inside in the morning."

She nodded and sank down next to him. It was good to have him back. When he was gone, it felt as though she couldn't quite breathe in fear of what could happen. He might not come back, and then where would she and the children be? She wasn't sure when he'd become so important—and not just because he helped care for their family. Truthfully, though, she wasn't sure she knew why else she needed him—at least not beyond knowing that everything felt more at ease when he was there, more like a household and less like she was holding her breath and waiting to exhale.

She didn't have an explanation, but she _did _know that he was home now, and it felt right.

She leaned back into the couch and let herself breathe.

* * *

Padme was the first to suggest that they share a bedroom. She told herself that it was purely for the children, of course. They needed to see what a normal family was like, and after some discussion, Obi-Wan eventually agreed. She never really knew if he understood her own motives better than she did, or if perhaps he simply gave in purely because it was something she asked for.

Obi-Wan never touched her inappropriately. Sometimes, she fancied that she saw some sort of deeper desire in his eyes, but it always seemed to flicker and dim—extinguished behind the Jedi self-control that he so often displayed—before she got a good look at it. He was unreadable, and that frustrated her. She didn't want him to be unreadable—she wanted to understand him.

The first time that they touched was almost an accident. As far as incidents went, it was fairly minor: the shoulder strap of Padme's gown slipped as she was climbing into bed, and Obi-Wan, ever the gentlemen, courteously reached over to gently move it back into place. The trouble came when his fingers brushed her skin, purely accidental, but enough to ignite the desire she hadn't been willing to acknowledge.

Immediately, he pulled his hand back. It took her a moment to realize that he'd felt her emotions.

"I—perhaps I should sleep on the sofa tonight?" he suggested quietly, a flush beginning to color his cheeks. He didn't seem angry. If anything, he appeared a little lost, as if he was unsure of how to respond.

Padme caught his hand before he could drop it back to the bed. "No. I—no."

He didn't sleep on the couch that night, and when they got up the next day, neither of them spoke about what had happened.

The second time that they blurred the lines in their carefully established rolls was a bit harder to deny... impossible, really. It started out innocently enough. They'd gone to bed, but he'd insisted on doing a bit of reading on his datapad before settling in to sleep. What he was reading about, she didn't know, but she'd begun to tease him about his propensity to spend his free time reading articles other beings found entirely boring. She'd needled him until he'd given in and lightly thrown the datapad onto her lap.

Completely amused, she'd thrown it back, laughing. And he'd thrown it back. Then, she'd tackled him.

She hadn't quite realized what she was doing until she was sprawled on top of him, their bodies pressed together. When she did finally notice, it was even more of a shock to realize that she didn't very much want to move. She liked the way he felt to her touch, warm and solid—comforting. He felt real.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, though she didn't move.

"We should talk about this."

"Sometimes talking doesn't solve anything."

"That coming from a politician?" he asked, his lips quirking into a playful smile. It looked different so close, and she was seized with the undeniable desire to feel that smile under hers.

"You're awful!" she quipped, swatting him in the shoulder with the back of her hand. It wasn't quite as satisfying as kissing him, but she wasn't sure how receptive he'd be, and making light of the position they were in seemed a good option.

The tension faded completely, and before she knew what was happening, he was flipping her over onto her side, grinning and laughing, his eyes sparkling with amusement. She loved that look in his eyes. It was everything that she'd missed with Anakin.

Except, Obi-Wan was not Anakin and, as odd as it seemed, she didn't want him to be. How could she? Anakin had failed her; she didn't want Obi-Wan to do the same.

They fell asleep that night lying very close to each other, exhausted from laughing.

The third time that they acted towards each other in a way not entirely platonic was the last time they cared to even think about it. It was two days after the second incident, five days after the first. This time, there was nothing accidental about it. They'd both slipped into bed after a long day of playing with the children outside. He'd turned over and she'd turned over until they were facing each other. Then, she had leaned forward and kissed him… and he'd kissed back

The kiss was entirely unlike anything she'd experienced. When Anakin had kissed her, there had always been almost unchecked desire behind it. She'd enjoyed his power, enjoyed feeling as if he consumed her. Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan was nothing like that.

The way he kissed her was sweet—gentle—and unhurried. He wasn't passive by any means, but he didn't thrum with power the way Anakin had. He was temperate. Solid. Unwavering. Padme had gotten enough adventure for a lifetime; as much as she'd loved Anakin, theirs had been a whirlwind romance, invigorating, but equally draining. Something steady now seemed entirely appealing.

_Obi-Wan_ seemed entirely appealing.

Anakin had been excitement and passion—an adventure that she would never regret—but Obi-Wan felt like home.

"Do you want this?" he asked, pulling back after a few moments.

She nodded.

"Padme, I'm not Anakin, and I never can be—"

"I don't _want_ you to be."

She didn't. She didn't want that at all. She wanted him to be _him_, because he was exactly what she needed now.

He looked at her a moment more as if he were discerning the truth in her words. Apparently, he liked what he found, because he leaned back in and brushed their lips together again. His skin was so warm under her hands—she could feel his heat even through his nightshirt—and he smelled of the mountains of Alderaan where they were living.

He smelled like home.


	3. Chapter 3

Estora: I'm glad the chemistry worked. I know exactly what you mean by cringe-worthy stories, and I was really, really trying to avoid that. Thanks for catching that typo! I'm the only one reading this over, so help like that is very much appreciated.

Littlefists: Telling me that this comes off as realistic is about the highest compliment you can give me, since it was my main concern in this fic. As we seem to both agree, this pairing can really seem OOC.

GalaxyPink: The format of this website annoys me A LOT at times. I'm glad I'm not the only one. The timeframe isn't supposed to be entirely obvious, though—it's going to cover a large span of years. Basically, in order to give a sense of how much time has passed, I try to state one of the kids' ages when there's some doubt.

Pronker: I thought it was pretty important for both characters to realize that Obi-Wan wasn't going to be able to replace Anakin in that sense. I didn't want this to come off as Padme just looking for a replacement.

PorcelainHeart94: I'll try my best to work in a mention of Siri. No guarantees, though.

Sarah Cartwright: Don't worry about this story being dropped—it's actually already basically finished. I just need to edit it and find time to post the parts. Also, I'm glad you caught the characterizations of Obi-Wan and Padme. Those two radical changes are two of my pet peeves in Obidala fics.

Lady Lurker: It's funny you should mention the timing of their relationship--I didn't actually intend to bring it in so soon. It just sort of happened. And, yes, I completely went for the emotional connection as opposed to the physical side—I don't have any desire to write the later. For me, it's all about playing with characterizations. You're correct, though—I wasn't saying Padme and Obi-Wan fit into that category. It was just basically my disclaimer to say that I didn't agree with the actions of my characters.

lalez: Thanks for reviewing! I really appreciate it. Last I checked, the cut scenes were on youtube, but stuff tends to get deleted from there, so it's hard to tell if they still are or not—the only way to tell would be to check, I guess. The scenes just described the beginning of the rebellion, though—they didn't show Padme surviving or anything like that. I'm pretty sure I read something somewhere that said Leia was remembering Breha Organa, but I could be wrong. It's an interesting idea, though!

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

-----------------

Jinn Kenobi was born a year after she and Obi-Wan slept together for the first time. His birth was everything and nothing like that of the twins' five years earlier. The most notable difference, of course, was that, this time, there was no overwhelming knowledge of the destruction of her child's father—unlike Anakin, Obi-Wan stayed with her the entire time… Just as he had during Luke and Leia's birth. Both her and Obi-Wan had gone through this before... not that it ever got any easier.

This time, however, there was no top-notch medical facility. There were no droids or nurses—nothing, other than Obi-Wan, who was certainly no midwife or droid programmed to assist. His only ally was the Force and, from what she could tell, he needed it just as much as she would have liked it herself. It wasn't that he showed any outright panic—he never did—but over the time she'd lived with him, she'd learned that when he stilled and took deep breaths, he was releasing his anxiety to the Force.

In all honesty, she suspected that he spent half of her labor releasing his emotions.

It was astounding how he could apparently commune with the Force while she was lying on her back gasping and crying out, while squeezing his hand hard enough that she could feel his bones shifting. He never once complained, though, and even while he was releasing his anxiety to the Force, he was still beside her, offering support in the only way he knew how: intermittently, he would wipe the sweat back from her face, murmuring soft words of encouragement as he sent tendrils of the Force drifting through her body, easing the pain of her contractions as much as he could without being a trained healer.

By the time it was all over and Obi-Wan had a newborn baby in his arms, she was exhausted. Having a child in the mountains of Alderaan with no medical help was not advisable, but they'd been unwilling to run the risk of having anyone know where they lived.

"He's beautiful," Obi-Wan murmured, a strange, amazed look on his face as he presented Padme with their son. "He's... perfect."

She smiled tiredly. "Yes. He is."

And he was. He was an average sized baby with his father's eyes and her nose, and a wisp of strawberry blonde hair feathering the top of his head. As far as she could tell, he'd look more like Obi-Wan with a few of her features thrown in.

"I... cannot believe we did this," he murmured as he settled the baby into her arms. "I—this is against everything I was ever taught as a Jedi..."

She laughed. He sounded so doubtful, but he was _smiling_, and the look of confused, stunned elation on his face belied an entirely different attitude than what his words might have indicated.

She stroked a finger down Jinn's face. "The Jedi weren't right about _everything_."

He didn't reply to that, but his happiness didn't fade, either. She wasn't surprised that he didn't reply—Obi-Wan almost never directly criticized the Order that had raised him. Honestly, Padme doubted he ever would, but that was all right, because he'd allowed himself to ease up about their rules anyway.

Apparently, he'd recognized that times had changed and that new methods were called for.

"I can't believe we did this," he repeated almost disbelievingly, leaning in over the bed close enough to prompt her to turn her face up and kiss the underside of his jaw where she knew he was ticklish. As expected, he shivered and ducked away, smiling a little, both at her and the baby.

"I can. Personally, I can't believe that you waited so long."

Chuckling, he smoothed back a piece of hair that had fallen into her face. "I was a _Jedi_, Padme."

"You're still a Jedi."

He nodded. "Just a different kind now, I suppose."

"A better kind. The Jedi Order, when it's remade, will stand to learn a good deal from you."

"What makes you think I'll still be alive when it's rebuilt?"

Death was not a topic she liked to discuss. She'd already lost Anakin—she couldn't fathom what she'd do if she lost Obi-Wan as well. She needed him—the _children_ needed him. They all did.

"Because _I_ plan to be, and that means I'll need you there, too."

Warmth flared in his eyes. "I can't promise that," he replied faintly, though affection hung in his tone. He would not promise, she knew, and maybe he verbally couldn't, but the way he was tenderly stroking his son's cheek, as though there was nothing more precious in the world, spoke of a desire to do so. Padme knew him well enough to see that.

"Do you promise to try?"

This time, he didn't hesitate. "You know that I do."

She believed him.

* * *

"Tell me a story, Dad."

Padme smiled, continuing to rock Jinn as she watched Luke and Leia pester Obi-Wan. Jinn was already asleep in her lap; it would be just as easy to lay the sleeping baby down, but there was something about holding her child that she cherished. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

"About what?" Obi-Wan asked, grinning as he leaned back against the headboard of Luke's bed. Leia's bed was across the room, but she'd joined her father and brother on Luke's bed for a story. Likewise, Padme had taken a seat in the rocking chair beside Jinn's crib in anticipation of whatever tale Obi-Wan would weave tonight for the children's enjoyment. Truthfully, she enjoyed his stories as much as they did.

"'Bout the old republic!" he suggested enthusiastically.

Padme's smile widened. For a six-year-old, he certainly knew what he wanted. Quite honestly, that was probably _because_ he was six.

"Why would you want to hear a story like that anyway?" Obi-Wan teased, brushing a lock of hair out of Leia's face. "You just like laughing about how much I hate flying."

Obi-Wan, it seemed, had told Luke and Leia every story he had which involved him learning to fly. Once he'd run out of tales about that topic, he'd progressed to his days as a padawan, and to Qui-Gon Jinn. The twins had quickly realized that this man was their brother's namesake, and he'd become a quick favorite, largely due to the fact that he'd often dragged their father into situations that they found humorous. They had especially enjoyed the tale of how Qui-Gon had once given Obi-Wan a bitter herb drink in place of his morning caf in order to teach him to "be aware of his surroundings." Luke, Padme remembered, had taken it upon himself to hide in random places around the house for a week after that, solely for the purpose of jumping out to scare unsuspecting family members in an effort to teach them to be "mindful of their surroundings and the living Force."

Obi-Wan had thought it was amusing for two reasons: he could easily sense Luke in the Force and therefore never had the unpleasant experience of being surprised; and he also had been able to turn it into a training exercise that included taking Luke by surprise before Luke could attempt to jump him, thereby showing the boy that he truly _should_ be mindful of his surroundings.

Padme smiled in memory and settled back in her chair, watching her son's and daughter's faces brighten at the suggestion of stories about flying.

"Yeah, one about flying!" Luke replied enthusiastically.

Obi-Wan didn't bother to try to hide his smile. Instead, he simply leaned back against the headboard and stretched his hand out in front of him as if he were waving at the great expanse of space that she was sure he was about to describe. "Well, there was this one time, in a certain battle over Coruscant, that I was attacked by droids. They were shutting down all my controls. I couldn't see anything. If ever there was a time that I felt flying was for droids, _that_ was it."

Both of the children giggled, amused at the expression they'd heard Obi-Wan utter countless times.

"Then, if you can believe it, Anakin thought he'd—"

Immediately, Obi-Wan stopped, his arm dropping back to the bed as the blood began draining from his face at the realization of what he'd said. Exhaling slowly, he looked up and caught Padme's eye. There was shock there—shock that he'd slipped, she realized. There was good reason for that, but she _did_ understand. Anakin had been so much a part of his life, and she knew that Obi-Wan thought of him often. He was tangled in so many of Obi-Wan's memories, both good and bad.

"Tell us about what Anakin did," she said slowly, taking a deep breath and giving him a small smile. It would hurt nothing for the children to hear a story about the man they didn't know was their father. There would be no harm in it at all. To them, he would simply be their father's friend and fellow hero, and for Obi-Wan, it might even help him heal.

No, there would be no harm in it at all. Of that she was convinced.

Still looking shaken, Obi-Wan nodded and cleared his throat. "Uh, yes, as I was saying—"

Fifteen minutes later, when he finished the story and she had finally put Jinn to bed, Obi-Wan was smiling. It was the first time since Mustafar that she'd seen him smile when talking about Anakin.

"Wow, Dad," Luke muttered, his tiny head nested down against the pillow. He had begun blinking slowly, his light eyelashes sweeping down like a butterfly landing softly, a sure sign that he was close to sleep. "That really happen?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan murmured. Carefully, he brushed his fingers lightly through Luke's hair as he pulled the blankets up to his chin. Leia was already tucked safely into bed, asleep. "Yes, it did. All of it."

There was a sort of peace on his face when he made that declaration.

Luke continued to stare tiredly at his father. "What happened to Anakin? Why isn't he here with us?"

The peace shattered.

That hurt. Seeing pain on the face of the man she loved was never pleasant, but when it was caused by memories of Anakin, it was particularly bitter. She didn't want to make him answer. "That's a story for another time," she told Luke, stepping forward and kissing him on the top of his head. "But, for now, it's time for you to go to sleep."

"'M not tired, Mom," he muttered, though his eyes were already slipping closed.

"Goodnight, Luke."

Trying not to acknowledge the violent tattoo her heart was beating against her chest, she followed Obi-Wan out of the room, switching off the light behind her. Once in the hallway, Obi-Wan sank back against the wall, head in his hands. As she watched, he threaded his fingers through the strands, stilling the shaking she was sure she'd seen moments before.

"It was right, Obi-Wan. It was right for them to know."

"I know," he whispered. "I know. That's not it. It's the last question. Anakin isn't here because _I_ hurt him, Padme. I took their father away."

Never. He couldn't think that. Reaching out, she untangled his hands from his hair, pulling them down and cradling them in her smaller ones. As she'd suspected, he was shaking. Even Jedi gave into their emotions occasionally, and sometimes she despised the Order for ever making anyone as good as Obi-Wan think that they were wrong for loving enough to hurt when that love was betrayed.

"You didn't. Anakin left. If he'd raised my babies as he was at the end—after he'd fallen—then my children would be evil. Don't think that what you did was wrong. It was _necessary_."

"And when we have to tell them? When we have to tell them that the man who raised them mutilated their real father, what will they think then?"

"They will understand why," she replied vehemently, tightening her grip on his hands. "We will wait until they are old enough to understand why."

"No one is old enough for that, Padme," he whispered. Still shaking, he tipped his head back, staring painfully at nothing, no doubt remembering. He did that sometimes: she'd seen it in soldiers from Naboo who had seen combat. They remembered, sometimes clearly enough to shake their present realities. He was never as bad as many of them had been—he released it to the Force—but she knew he was still haunted by the things he'd seen, and sometimes that was enough to give him pause.

"Then we won't tell them at all."

"About Anakin?"

"About who Anakin _becomes_."

"They'll want to know what happens to him," he murmured, looking back down at her. The pain in his eyes nearly broke her, and in that moment, she resented Anakin for what he was causing now. The choices he'd made had caused so much suffering.

"Then we'll tell them, when they ask, that a man named Darth Vader betrayed and murdered their father."

He broke her hold on his hands, slipping his own up to lightly grip her forearms. "That's… not a lie."

"It _is_ the truth…"

"From a certain point of view," he murmured.

It was. She would not lie to her children, but she would shift their view if it meant protecting them. Anakin wasn't going to hurt anyone else that she loved if she could stop it.

Nodding, she leaned up and kissed Obi-Wan.

Her lips lingered against his cheek when she pulled away, and they stood there in the dark, faces pressed together, just breathing. "So many of the truths we cling to are," she murmured against his skin.

Later that night, as she was lying in bed with Obi-Wan's arm slung over her, she thought about that—about how everything she thought to be true might only really be because of how she viewed it. Had it been thoughts of that nature which had led Anakin to justify shifting his allegiance to the dark side? Obi-Wan had once mentioned that he'd declared during that last fight that, from his point of view, he considered the Jedi to be evil. Had he really believed that? Had that been his truth? His point of view?

She clenched her hands in the sheets and tensed, so noticeably that Obi-Wan murmured in his sleep behind her, sensing her unsettledness. Point of view. _Point of view_. It was all so wrong. Anakin had been wrong. Nothing right condoned the slaughter of innocent children, the abuse of a wife, or the attempted murder of the man who'd raised you and stood by you.

Leaning back into Obi-Wan, she gritted her teeth and stared into the darkness. Anakin had been wrong—very wrong—but she was going to take his principle—his belief in point of view—and use it to ensure that his children would never know what he'd become. That was _her _point of view.

She hoped it would lead to better places than Anakin's had.


	4. Chapter 4

Estora: Haha, I like the bit about jolts of electricity. Very true. I think you're pretty on track about them loving each other but not being in love. There are moments when their relationship crosses the line into passionate (Jinn does exist, after all…), but for the most part they're two close friends who depend on each other, love each other, and are attracted to each other to the point where living alone in a house together makes it just about impossible for them not to become intimate, but, as you put it, it's not like there are jolts of electricity running up and down their arms when they touch. Oh, and, yes, Vader will definitely make an appearance. A BIG one.

Littlefists: Telling me that this comes off as realistic is about the highest compliment you can give me, since it was my main concern in this fic. As we seem to both agree, this pairing can really seem OOC.

GalaxyPink: I enjoyed working those lines in, too. It's always nice when something like that works.

Pronker: I agree. I don't think it's really possible to move on from something like that—live with it, maybe, but certainly not forget about it.

PorcelainHeart94: I imagine little Luke would have been very cute. :) And, no, the kids are not happy when they find out the truth.

ObiBettina7: Yes, I imagine Jinn would be something to look at when older. Talk about having stacked genes. Lucky kid.

Lady Lurker: Thank you for all the kind words. :) Jinn will definitely factor in later on. And you're right—he and Padme do sometimes forget, but I think under the circumstances, most people would. Obi-Wan is the one who's there doing all the work, so in every sense but biological, he _is_ the children's father. Although, Anakin is sort of like the elephant in the corner who never quite goes away.

lalez: No, you're right—there is a lot less Leia than Luke. I'm not sure why that happened, exactly, other than that Luke was always the one who interacted more with Anakin the Original Trilogy, so I guess I'm just playing off that.

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

---------------

"Why don't I look like you or mommy, Daddy?"

The innocence of a child—of Luke—was so often endearing, even if at times like these, it also tore at Padme's heart. His question was so innocent, but the answer to it wasn't one she ever wanted to give him. If she had her way, Luke would never know his true parentage, not because she wanted to erase Anakin, but because she feared that eventually, if he looked, he might learn who Anakin had become.

"Luke—"

There was a lie on her tongue, ready to slide off and end the conversation, but Obi-Wan held up a hand to silence her. "Someday, Padme, the truth is going to come out. It is better for him to hear it from us."

Luke gazed up at him with wide-eyed curiosity. At seven, he had the same nearly elfin features that Anakin himself had displayed as a young boy. There was no way around it: he resembled his father. His _biological_ father.

A slow ache began to bloom in her chest as she stared at Obi-Wan. His face was a picture of calm, but in his eyes there was sadness. He hadn't wanted this day to come, either, but he was always practical, and never more so than now.

More importantly, he loved Luke, just as he'd loved Anakin. He didn't want to deny either of them what Padme knew he regarded as theirs.

"_You_ are their father, Obi-Wan—" she began to protest. He might think that he owed Anakin the right to hold the mantle of parent, but Anakin had not been the man who had raised them. Obi-Wan had that right now. Anakin had given it up the moment he'd sunk to his knees in Palpatine's office.

He nodded. "Yes, I am. But he is too, Padme. Anakin is a part of who they are."

"Anakin? The Anakin from the stories?" Luke demanded, a hint of childish impatience beginning to taint his voice.

Always Anakin. Padme still loved him, but nowadays the memory of him in correlation with her children only brought stress. If she could just remember him as her husband, but as nothing else—not as the father of her children—things would be so much simpler.

Carefully, Obi-Wan squatted down in front of Luke and lightly gripped his arms. He met Luke's gaze with such ease—Padme could almost pretend he was merely telling their son that another run to the city was necessary and that he would not see his father again for a few days. She dreaded those words immensely—hated it when Obi-Wan left—but they certainly didn't compare to the ones she knew she was about to hear. Nothing could. Nothing else could hurt as much as what he was about to say.

"Anakin Skywalker is your father."

For a short moment, Luke's face was blank. Then, as if he hadn't quite understood what had been said, his brow furrowed. "What? You're my father, Dad. Remember? That's not possible."

"I _am_ your father," he agreed. "But so is Anakin Skywalker. He is your biological father. I am the man who raised you."

At first, there was nothing. Luke's face was blank. He showed no emotion, but Padme knew well enough what shock looked like, and she knew she was seeing it in her son. He wasn't emotionless because he felt nothing.

He was emotionless because he felt too much.

For a few moments he simply blinked, staring at Obi-Wan expressionlessly. Then, gradually, his visage shifted from showing nothing to showing everything: emotions washed over him, ranging from hurt to anger and maybe even fear.

Luke slapped Obi-Wan's touch away. "No! You're lying!"

"I'm not, Luke. You know that," Obi-Wan told him quietly, a tinge of sadness in his voice. Even in the face of Luke's growing distress, he remained steady and calm, if a bit melancholy, as if he'd been anticipating this for a while.

Who knew? Maybe he had been, just as much as Padme had been trying to block it from her mind.

"Anakin Skywalker is your father. You asked why you don't look like me. That is why: you look like him."

"No! That's impossible!" he shouted, his small face twisting into a picture of anger and despair. "No!" Furiously, he wrenched completely away from Obi-Wan, instead turning towards his mother, begging with his eyes. She could see everything he was feeling, and it killed something in her, because she could do nothing to make it better.

It was like Mustafar all over again, when she'd looked into Anakin's eyes and known there was nothing she could do to make things right. She'd tried, of course—had begged him to come away with her in hopes that she could save him—but it hadn't been enough. _She _hadn't been enough. By then, he'd been too steeped in the dark side to be turned back by anything. There had been nothing she could do. She hadn't been able to fix either him or the results of his actions.

Then, the moment broke, and she was faced with the consequences of Anakin's failure.

She was faced with the pain in her son.

"Mom, please, Mom, that's wrong, isn't it?"

Yes. Yes, she wanted it to be. Yes— "No, Luke. It's not."

He spun back around towards Obi-Wan, gaping at him for a few short seconds before snapping back around towards Padme. The complete confusion in his eyes—the betrayal that she saw there—left her wishing that Luke were truly Obi-Wan's child.

That he wasn't Anakin's.

"Luke—" she tried to say, reaching out toward her baby.

"No!" Wrenching away from her, he threw himself backwards, nearly falling in his desperation to keep out of her reach. "Are you even my mother?"

"Yes, Luke," she murmured. She wanted to try to reach out again, but fearing another like his first reaction, she stayed where she was, hand lightly over her mouth as she choked back tears.

Then, he turned on Obi-Wan. "Jinn is your son!" he yelled, the confusion collapsing into anger. Padme understood that, but her heart still broke at the brief flash of hurt on Obi-Wan's face before he closed off the signs of his emotions. "You lied to me! Made me think I was, too!"

Obi-Wan raised his chin and took a deep breath. "You are."

"No, I'm not!" he screamed. His cheeks were reddening as his anger rose, and his eyes were bright with hurt. "Where's my _real_ father? Didn't he want me? He would have been better than a man who lies to me! Anyone would be better than _you!_"

Someone who didn't understand that Luke's tantrum wasn't precipitated by anger but by hurt and confusion might have taken offense and lashed out. Obi-Wan didn't, although Padme could see Luke's own suffering echoed back very clearly in his eyes.

Glancing over at her, Obi-Wan ran a hand nervously through his hair. It was longer now, about how it had been during the beginning of the Clone Wars, though with a cut that kept some of it across his forehead, allowing him to hide behind what were almost bangs if he needed to keep his eyes concealed as he sometimes did when he went into town. It was almost a melding between how he'd looked at the beginning and end of the Clone Wars. Padme had liked it until now when she saw him raking the stray locks out of his face with a stress she'd never forget. Later, she'd ask him to cut it, because she didn't want this memory every time she saw him shake his hair out of his face.

"Your real father is dead, Luke," he said quietly.

Not a lie. Not a lie at all. Padme just wished it were completely the truth.

Luke was hanging on his words, quiet as long as Obi-Wan was speaking, though Padme was sure he was going to lash out again as soon as Obi-Wan fell silent. He didn't. Instead, he did something far more gut wrenching.

He began to sob.

"I didn't mean it, Daddy," he choked out, running for Obi-Wan and throwing himself into his arms when Obi-Wan bent down to catch him. "I didn't mean it. You're my dad. I love you. I'm sorry-s-s-sorry-y-y-"

No. _No_. She didn't want to see her baby's heart break like this, and for the first time, she wished she'd never met Anakin. He'd done this. He had left his son to this pain. So selfish. So evil.

Padme felt a tightening in her chest—a tightening that precipitated tears—as she watched Obi-Wan scoop Luke up and hold him against his chest like he had when Luke had been young. The boy was sobbing, but he clung as Obi-Wan began to rock him gently, whispering words that she could just catch.

"I love you, Luke," he murmured against the boy's ear, one hand on the back of Luke's head, tucking it against his shoulder as he stroked the fine blond hair that was nothing like his own copper. "You're my son, no matter what. No. Matter. What. I love you, and that won't change. Your mother and I love you."

As she swallowed down her own sobs—they didn't need her weakness right now—Padme found herself moving closer to the pair until she was pressed against Obi-Wan as well, hugging him with Luke in between. Obi-Wan was so warm and solid, and the way he smelled made her feel safe. She didn't ever want to let go, and having Luke there between them was perfect. This was _family._ "We do love you, Luke," she whispered. "No matter what."

Later, they would have to explain this to Leia as well. Padme didn't look forward to that but, right now, with the feeling of her son against her, with Obi-Wan's arms around her, she wouldn't think of that. There were too many broken pieces, and she couldn't put them back together all at once. Sometimes, it felt like that was all her life consisted of anymore.

She was forever picking up the pieces of the things Anakin had shattered.

* * *

When Obi-Wan officially joined the rebellion, the twins were ten, and Jinn was five. Padme didn't want him to—had flat out ordered him not to—but Obi-Wan had always had a sense of duty that couldn't be overridden by his personal desires, no matter how much she wished it could.

It had to be enough for her to know that what duty was calling him to do was _not_ what he desired.

"You don't need to do this," she said, dry-eyed as she stood on their front steps. Luke and Leia were off playing—she and Obi-Wan had determined not to tell them that this trip into town, though equal in length to the others, would not be of the same nature. Unlike his siblings, Jinn stood by his mother, hands fisted in her skirt as he watched his father quietly.

He was so like Obi-Wan. He looked like him, certainly, with copper hair and eyes that changed color from blue to green to gray depending on the light, but more than that, he acted like him. He was a thoughtful child, clever, and with a streak of temper that he hadn't yet learned to control.

"Yes," he replied quietly. "I do."

Her nails bit into her palms as she clenched her hands tightly, fighting to hide the frustration she could feel building. Once, she'd been a galactic senator, capable of talking other beings into seeing her point of view, but when it came to Obi-Wan, she was incapable of making him see reason. She suspected that it was because, as much as he'd hate to admit it, he'd been something just short of politician as well. Not by profession, of course, but by virtue of his skills in negotiation, and his use of those skills to rally people to whatever cause he was supporting. He might have disliked politicians, but he'd been as clever at talking people into seeing things his way as any senator Padme had ever met. "And what about us?"

It was a selfish last effort, and she hated how she sounded, trying to emotionally blackmail him into staying. It was pathetic, and not the type of person she wanted to be, but she feared him leaving more than she hated what she was doing.

He smiled sadly. "Padme," he simply said, reaching out to draw her into an embrace. Jinn reached out, too, his fingertips brushing his father's leg. He held her for a few moments, letting her sink in against him, seeking a safety that she was loath to admit she needed. When he did pull away, his hands remained on her waist. "I want my children to live in a free world someday. They can't hide forever."

"And if you die?"

"They have you."

"I can't do this alone."

Still smiling, he gave her waist a light, affectionate squeeze. "Padme, you are the woman who planned the battle of Naboo. You fought on Geonosis. You faced down countless immoral politicians, which, personally, I think to be the most frightening of all." The only hint of his displeasure at failing to evoke the smile he was clearly going for was a slight tightening at the corners of his mouth. Even that was short lived, and instead of dwelling on her refusal to cooperate, he raised his hands to her face, cupping it gently. "You don't _need_ me_, _Padme. You are strong all by yourself."

She could have hit him for that. Maybe it was a compliment, but she could hardly take it as one when it went hand and hand with his departure. In this context, it sounded like a dismissal. "Don't you _dare_ do to me what Anakin did."

The smile flickered and died on his face. Anakin had that effect. There were so many bad memories for them both.

"Padme," he murmured, sighing. "I am not Anakin."

"I don't _want_ you to be!" she replied fiercely. Jinn, startled by the tone, pressed himself more firmly against Obi-Wan's legs.

He looked away again, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was frustrated, she could tell. "No, you don't, do you? But you can't forget him, either, no more than I can. The difference is that I'm not constantly comparing you to him. I'm tired of living with Anakin's ghost, Padme. Please, just let it go—our bed isn't big enough for three."

She did hit him for that. It was a quick smack across the cheek, but he didn't bother to roll with the blow. He could have—with his Jedi training, he had to have seen it coming. Instead, he took the hit and turned back to calmly look at her, placing one hand on Jinn's head and gently smoothing his hair back off his face in a gesture of quiet comfort.

The boy was shaking, she noticed, and immediately she felt terrible. "I'm sorry," she choked out, hating herself more by the minute.

He looked at her sadly. "I know."

"I don't wish you were Anakin."

It was such a touchy subject, because she _had_ loved Anakin. She still did. She loved both him and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan knew that, just as much as he knew that she considered the Anakin who'd been her husband to be dead and gone. The creature who occupied his mutilated body wasn't her husband. He might be Anakin, but not _her _Anakin—he was simply the thing Anakin had become. And Obi-Wan… he was every bit as much in her heart as Anakin had ever been. There relationship wasn't as fiery as hers and Anakin's had been; while there were shades of passion in it, it was steadier: Anakin was the fire that consumed, and Obi-Wan the one to warm by. The two relationships were different, and what she was doing didn't feel like a betrayal to her husband's memory, even though Anakin would have doubtless taken it as one.

Then, who cared if it was? It wasn't as though he hadn't betrayed _her_…

"We both loved him, Padme," Obi-Wan said slowly, reaching down to pick up his son, "but his memory can't rule our lives."

He was right, of course. Clinging to the threads of a betrayal—of a fear that Obi-Wan would do the same—was foolish. Obi-Wan was not the same man, and for that she was immensely grateful. Truly, she was, but it was just so difficult—nearly impossible, really—not to fear that she'd lose him too. She didn't think she could handle that loss. Not to wake up with him beside her every morning, to miss his laughter as he played with his children, to never again see him relaxed and at ease as he read something on a datapad—it was unthinkable to her.

It all hurt so much. Just so, so much. He had to leave, of course, had to do his duty, all because he felt the guilt of a failed padawan. He hadn't failed, though, she thought bitterly. _Anakin _had failed.

Anakin had failed them all.

She almost was unable to suppress the burst of anger that suddenly exploded within her. It wasn't rage at Obi-Wan—it wasn't even at herself. Instead, it was all for a faceless black creature, the stuff of nightmares, but so real in nature.

It was all for the thing Anakin had become.

"You'll be good for your mommy, yes?" Obi-Wan asked his son, playfully hoisting him up over his head and holding him there. Jinn laughed, reaching down to brace his hands on his father's head as Obi-Wan spun him a little in a clear effort to lighten the mood for his son.

"Promise, Daddy," he managed to say between squeals of delight as Obi-Wan let him down and threw him over one shoulder instead. "Daddy!"

The anger in Padme dimmed at the sight of her child's wide smile. That smile looked so much like Obi-Wan's. _Jinn_ looked so much like Obi-Wan. "He's always good. He's polite like his father."

Obi-Wan laughed. "Which is why we have to worry." Carefully, he caught his son as he flipped him back around and handed him to Padme. At five, he was getting too big for Padme to hold, but there was something about placing him on her hip and hugging him close as Obi-Wan prepared to leave that was too comforting to pass up.

Obi-Wan didn't move away when he handed Jinn to her. Instead, he pulled her close again, kissing her lightly on the forehead and stroking a hand through her dark hair. His fingers tangled in the curls, and he lightly smoothed through them, untangling until he reached the ends.

"I'll come home," he promised.

Her lips formed silent words. _I know_ she didn't say. Thought it, yes, mouthed it also, but never spoke it. She couldn't.

She couldn't say it aloud because she _didn't_ know. She didn't know at all, but sometimes faith meant refusing to doubt… and Obi-Wan deserved her faith.

Faith, of course, wasn't going to fill his place, but in his wake, it would be enough. He left such a trail, this Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had a presence, and it followed behind him, touching everyone he met. Padme lived in that trail, in that knowledge that someday his destiny might take him to a place where she couldn't follow, and that then all she would have left was the remnants and ripples that his presence left behind. She would have nothing left of him but the waves of circumstance that he created with the life he lived.

When that happened, she would stay in the wake and ride it to its end.

That was _her_ destiny, and she'd accept it when it came.


	5. Chapter 5

XxRandom NemesisxX: Thanks! :)

Estora: Vader won't be coming for a while, but he'll play a big part. Also, very astute observation about Padme's constant proclamations that she doesn't want Obi-Wan to be Anakin. At this point, I don't think she does, but I think she's _afraid_ that she does. That is, I think she's terrified that she might not have completely moved on from him.

jessy85: I do very much appreciate the review! Thanks!

diamond aka fairy246: You know, I hadn't realized I had so little of Leia until I went back over this. I'll have to see if I can get a little more of her in somewhere.

GalaxyPink: The one thing I can promise you is that Padme and the kids aren't going to die and leave Obi-Wan all alone.

Pronker: Yeah, Obi-Wan is sort of in a tough position. And I prefer a Padme who is still a little fiery—she kicked some serious butt in TPM and AOTC.

ObiBettina7: Oddly, enough, Jinn ended up becoming one of my favorite characters in this story.

Lady Lurker: You're very right: she always will compare Anakin to Obi-Wan, even if she's not actually wishing that he _was_ Anakin. I think that would be the case in most any second relationship—the circumstances here just make it a little more intense.

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

---------------

Though Padme was sure she had finished her singular mission in life to the point where Obi-Wan's eventual destiny overshadowed her own, she labored under no such delusions about her children. There was something great in store for them. Something every bit as great as whatever their father had left to do.

At fifteen, both Luke and Leia were well trained in the Jedi arts. Even Jinn, five years behind them, surpassed what a Jedi child his age was normally capable of… not that any of them had anyone to be compared to.

The other Jedi were all dead.

Padme had not seen any of them die. She'd been spared that, thankfully. Obi-Wan did not have the same luxury. Sometimes, he woke up at night, drenched in sweat with the names of long-dead friends and comrades on his lips. Sometimes, he woke gasping his children's names.

_I saw them_, he'd told her once after he'd woken up, before he'd regained his usual control. _Luke and Leia and Jinn. Dead. Dead in front of me in the Temple. There was so much carnage, Padme. So many bodies._

She didn't like to think about Order 66 too much.

Instead, she preferred to think of her own children, alive and well.

It was sometimes a source of contention between the children that Luke was stronger in Force than the other two. Leia was more on par with Jinn—she had apparently not inherited Anakin's abnormally high midichlorian count. Both she and Jinn had high counts, certainly—Leia simply because she _had_ inherited some of Anakin's characteristics, and Jinn because he took after Obi-Wan—but neither of them rivaled Luke, who was, Obi-Wan suspected, Anakin's equal in the Force.

Padme couldn't begin to understand. She herself had only the barest hint of Force-sensitivity, no different from any other living being who was not gifted enough to be a Jedi. This part of her children and Obi-Wan was a complete mystery to her.

"Again, Luke," Obi-Wan grunted, catching the boy's blow with his own lightsaber and pushing it to the side.

Sparring matches like these, taking place in their front yard, were commonplace. Obi-Wan trained the children, and part of that training was instructing them in fighting techniques. Padme had long since gotten used to looking out the window to see her children and Obi-Wan engaged in katas, sparring matches, or some other physical activity. It was almost a comforting sight, and she had to admit, there was something graceful and beautiful in the swordplay and the katas behind it.

This morning, Luke was fighting offensively, trying to find an opening in Obi-Wan's defenses. It wasn't easy. As a master of Soresu, Obi-Wan's strength came in preventing those openings.

Watching from their front porch, Padme wondered if he'd always been that defensive. She doubted it.

She could tell even from where she sat that Obi-Wan was winded. At fifty-three, he wasn't the same fighter he'd been in his twenties and thirties. The man who'd fought in the Clone Wars was aging, and in moments like these, it showed. She could see it in the gray streaking his hair, the beginnings of wrinkles on his face, and the way his step wasn't quite as quick anymore.

Luke's step, however, _was_.

Padme's breath caught in her chest when she saw the inevitable finally happen. A quick feint by Luke, a foot slipping in the dirt, and then a show of age when Obi-Wan didn't recover quite as quickly as he once might have. The split second difference was more than enough for Luke.

He hit Obi-Wan hard with a well-placed kick to the shoulder, knocking his father onto his back in a mess of dirt and dust. Obi-Wan's lightsaber remained activated, and Luke, clearly sensing that he had the chance to accomplish something he'd always striven for but never accomplished, jumped on the opportunity, hacking downward in a series of hard blows against Obi-Wan's lightsaber that Obi-Wan couldn't begin to withstand without gravity on his side. Though he tried to keep his arm up, the strength behind Luke's attack was too much, and by the fourth blow, his lightsaber was forced aside.

Luke's blade was at his throat.

Obi-Wan's eyes shown with pride.

With dirt in his hair and his lightsaber forced into a useless position, Obi-Wan was smiling, looking at Luke with a pride that Padme didn't understand.

And just like that, it was over.

"Daddy, I did it!" Luke exclaimed, sounding far more like a child than he would probably ever admit. The ridiculously happy grin spreading across his face didn't dissuade that connection, even when he reached down and pulled his father to his feet with strength that no child possessed.

"I'm very proud of you, Luke."

He was. Padme could see the happiness in his eyes, in his posture—everywhere—as he reached out to cup Luke's cheek his with hand. It was only a brief moment, but for Luke it was obviously enough; his grin widened into a full-blown smile and he lurched forward and impulsively pulled Obi-Wan into a quick hug.

At fifteen, that was getting less common, but Luke was still an affectionate boy by nature, and Obi-Wan was always receptive. It surprised Padme that he was. Though he'd always resembled Anakin, these days Luke was growing closer and closer in appearance to how Anakin had looked at the time when he fell.

Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice. Most of the time, Padme didn't, either.

"Go help your siblings learn to do that, will you?" Obi-Wan asked, laughing when Luke pulled away. With one last pat to his cheek, he pushed him off towards where Jinn and Leia were watching. "I'll expect you two to best me within the week, as well," he quipped, giving them a small smile as Luke jogged over to them, energetic to the extreme from the rush of his recent victory.

Padme said nothing as Obi-Wan walked over to her. She didn't speak until he'd come to stand beside her on the porch.

"Why were you happy that he won, Obi-Wan?" she asked, letting him press in against her back and wrap his arms around her.

She felt his smile against her cheek as both of them kept their eyes on where Luke had begun to practice with Jinn. "Because he did it without anger or pride. He did it like a _Jedi_."

What had Anakin been like the first time he'd bested Obi-Wan? She knew that was what Obi-Wan was thinking about, and Luke—Luke must have reacted as Obi-Wan had wanted. No pride, where Anakin had probably gloated; and no anger, which had always probably fueled Anakin's style to some degree.

The tingling of relief that thought brought started in her hands and sank further into her body, almost weakening her in its intensity. Luke wasn't like his father. He wasn't. He wasn't going to turn out like him.

"He's very good, Padme," Obi-Wan whispered against her neck, nuzzling a little as he sighed in what sounded like a mixture of satisfaction and happiness.

He wasn't talking about Luke's saber skills, she knew.

He hugged her a little tighter. "He's so _light."_

She closed her eyes against the tears that were suddenly threatening. What could she say to that? Nothing. Nothing at all, because it was too perfect, so she simply squeezed her eyes more tightly shut and leaned her head back against Obi-Wan's shoulder, reveling in the feel of his embrace.

Her son was light.

------------------

Obi-Wan seldom talked about his part in the rebellion. He knew she hated the stories of clandestine fact-finding missions and the occasional live action that he still saw when those missions went wrong, but sometimes he told Luke, and when he did, she found herself listening in, not out of pleasure, but out of some sick sense of curiosity. She wanted to know what he went through. She _had_ to know, and because she could not make herself ask, this was her only avenue for information.

This time, she stood outside the door to Luke's room—one of a few that had been added as an addition to the house in order for each child to have their own bedroom—an armful of folded laundry in her hands. Obi-Wan's tunics were among them. They'd smelled of blaster fire, but she hadn't asked, and he hadn't explained.

"You're sure?" she heard Luke ask, sounding slightly worried.

"It's going to be complete within a handful of years."

"What then?"

Obi-Wan sighed, sounding for all the worlds like someone who had simply seen too much. "We find a way to destroy it. Hopefully, we'll find a way before then."

"I want to help."

"Luke, we've had this conversation—"

"Yes, and every time you tell me that when I'm old enough I can help. I'm seventeen, Dad. I'm old enough."

Another sigh. "Luke, war isn't a game, and it isn't fun. I tell you how the events are unfolding because I know that someday you're inevitably going to be involved in all this. But don't rush it, Luke. War is not something you _want_ to be involved in. Trust me."

Luke didn't understand, Padme knew. Luke didn't yet wake up at night seeing dead bodies—remembering how it felt to be stuck in a crashed transport surrounded by them, waiting for help to arrive; how they smelled when they lay scattered across a battlefield, baking in the sun; or how they looked decorating the floors of the Temple, scattered there by someone who was supposed to be family. Luke didn't see that yet, but Obi-Wan did, and Padme was there every time he remembered.

She didn't want Luke to have that burden until absolutely necessary.

There was the sound of a bed shifting, and then a younger voice added, "But the Empire is evil, Dad."

Jinn. Padme instinctively frowned. Jinn was only twelve. He didn't need to be hearing war stories yet. She didn't particularly like that Obi-Wan shared with Luke, but she understood the necessity. But not Jinn. He didn't need to know yet.

"Yes, it is. But—"

"Someone needs to take down the Emperor and his lapdog Vader," Luke interrupted fervently, malice coating his voice.

If only he knew. They had never told him who Vader was. The idea of it—it turned her stomach, and although he hadn't said anything, she suspected that it did the same to Obi-Wan. Though, perhaps for slightly different reasons.

Padme didn't know how to tell her children that their father was a monster; Obi-Wan didn't want to face the fact that Anakin _was_ Darth Vader. To him, what he'd told the children was true: their father was dead. Anakin was not Darth Vader, and he'd convinced himself of it so thoroughly that she suspected he was willingly blind to the fact that the children probably would not see the same distinction. The idea that Vader was the man who was once their father would not be viewed in the same way that he viewed it. To them, Vader and Anakin would not be so simple to separate.

"I'm ready, Dad."

A pause, and then, "Do you think Leia is ready? Do you want to send her into a battle?"

Luke scoffed. "No, of course not. That's different."

"She's as old as you are, Luke."

"It's _different_."

"Not to me and your mother."

"Dad, if the Empire is truly building a super weapon, you're going to need all the help you can get."

"You're right… and I'll gladly accept your help when I ask for it. Until then, this conversation is over."

Padme could hear the steel in his voice, and she was sure Luke could, too. Obi-Wan wouldn't be moved on this, and for that she was very thankful. She knew her children had a destiny, but it was a mother's instinct to desire to keep them safe as long as was possible.

"Fine," Luke snapped. After a moment, she heard the sound of footsteps, hard and angry on the floor as he headed for the door.

He stormed out before she had a chance to move.

The surprise on his face was almost comical. "Mom."

"He's right, you know," she said simply, holding his gaze. "The war will still be there waiting, Luke. Don't be so eager to enter it."

As she'd expected, the scope of his displeasure widened to focus on her as well. Behind him in the doorway, Obi-Wan appeared, looking completely unsurprised. He had, she knew, likely been aware that she was there the whole time. Just because she listened at doors sometimes didn't mean she was spying on him. They both knew he could easily sense her presence in the Force. Often times, when she listened in, she knew he included bits of information about things he knew she wanted to know but couldn't bring herself to ask.

"You both think I'm a child," he muttered angrily, looking away sulkily.

"You're seventeen, Luke," Obi-Wan replied, crossing his arms. "That's not quite grown up yet. I remained apprenticed until I was twenty-five."

"Then maybe you were just slow!" Luke snapped, shooting Obi-Wan a withering glare.

"Luke—" Padme started to say, shocked. That wasn't like him, not at all. It was too biting, too like Anakin when he was upset. Anakin had so often aimed to hurt, and she didn't want Luke to be like Anakin, didn't—

She shouldn't have worried. Luke looked almost as horrified as she felt, and immediately his expression of anger dropped away, leaving absolute contrition in his place. "Dad, I didn't—"

Obi-Wan simply crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "We can't all be gifted, Luke, and quite frankly, those who are will be held to a higher standard. I'm holding you to that standard now: I want you to meditate two extra hours tonight, and no free time tomorrow to work on your speeder."

That got through to him. Padme could see the emotion in his face, but he simply clenched his fists in what she assumed was a mixture of irritation at the loss of privilege and embarrassment at being held accountable for how he'd just spoken. "Dad—"

"You're certainly forgiven, Luke, but you know far better than to speak to me like that, and I won't tolerate it."

He ducked his head—probably to avoid having Obi-Wan see the glare Padme was sure he was sporting—and mumbled a less-than-enthusiastic, "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Then I would suggest that you go get started on that meditation."

Luke said nothing more, but headed off down the hallway, his shoulders hunched slightly and his hands still balled into fists.

Padme watched him go, feeling slightly ill.

"He didn't mean it, Dad," Jinn murmured from his place at the door. He had, until then, watched the proceedings silently, as he was wont to do. He was like his father that way—preferring to watch, assess, and then act.

Obi-Wan nodded. "I know, Jinn."

"He doesn't really think you were slow. He thinks you're amazing—he's told me so."

Obi-Wan's lips curved into an amused smile. "I appreciate the sentiment, but the day I begin basing my self-esteem on my teenage son's opinion of my skills is the day I retire from training at all." Sighing, though still with a smile, he gave his son an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "I've had far worse things said to me, from people who meant them much more. I rather think I'll survive this comment."

At twelve, Jinn was looking more and more like his father. His eyes and hair were Obi-Wan's, and while some of his features were softer and more like his mother's, only someone who knew Padme well would have connected them at first sight. His relation to Obi-Wan was obvious to even the most casual of observers.

More importantly, his disposition was also like that of his father's. He had a temper at times—something his father hadn't conquered until later in life—but his manner was gentle, and he was a serious child, driven, but possessing an inclination toward attachment that would have gotten him into trouble in the old Order.

Of all the qualities he'd inherited from Obi-Wan, the last was Padme's favorite.

"Okay," Jinn answered after a few moments. Uncertainty still clearly clung to him, but he at least seemed assured that he'd done all he could do to help with the situation, and so after quick glance at Padme, he slipped off down the hallway in the same fashion as his brother. More than likely, he'd probably go find Leia and tell her what had happened.

"I hate it when he acts like that," Padme muttered once he was gone.

Obi-Wan shrugged and reached out to carry the laundry for her. Even now, after all these years, she still felt a little thrill when he did things like that. It was so solicitous, and she loved that Obi-Wan was always a gentleman. "He's a teenage boy. They have tempers. Force knows I did."

She hadn't known Obi-Wan as a child, but people who did had told her that what he was saying was true. Personally, she found the idea of a five-year-old Obi-Wan throwing a temper-tantrum amusing, simply because it was so opposite of the man she knew. "For someone who thinks it's natural, you certainly made sure he regretted it."

A spark of mirth danced in his gaze as he glanced over at her, smiling. "Just because I know it's not abnormal doesn't mean I'll let him get away with it."

Good. Because even if he had, she wouldn't have. Her children weren't going to be brats.

"I'm glad you still don't think he's ready," she said as they made their way out of the hallway and into the kitchen.

He set the laundry down on the table and sank down into one of the chairs, leaving her to do the folding. It wasn't that he was incapable—he'd had to fold his own clothes for years—but he knew it made her feel good to be able to do something so simple for him, and so he never interfered.

"He will be soon, Padme. Will you be ready when he is?"

She paused, her hands resting lightly on one of his tunics. It had a blaster burn on the shoulder. "You know I won't be. A mother can never be ready to send her children into a war, Obi-Wan."

He nodded and lightly smoothed his hand over his clean-shaven chin. "And neither can a father, really. But we both know we can't hold them back forever, and I suspect the time to let them go is coming soon."

She didn't want to believe that. Luke and Leia were her babies, and even seventeen years after their birth, she couldn't imagine that they were old enough for something as sinister as war.

She hated war. This whole blasted war had ruined her life. She'd already given so much to it. Did it need to take her children, too?

The tears that suddenly pricked at her eyes were unexpected, though maybe they shouldn't have been. She hated all of this, and in a fit of temper, she threw down Obi-Wan's tunic and turned to face him. "What if they don't come back, Obi-Wan?" she asked, right before her face crumpled and she turned back away, pressing a hand to her forehead as she fought for control. She was better than this. She was a former senator, queen, _politician_—she knew how to hide her emotions. Why was she falling apart _now_?

"They will," he said simply. "They have a destiny."

"I'm tired of destiny."

He laughed humorlessly, and the scrape of a chair on the floor let her know that he was getting up. "We all are, Padme. No one more than I, but maybe soon, this will all be over. And there's always the Force."

"That's not—"

"Good enough? No, it's not. It will never be good enough when it's your child, Padme, no matter how much you want it to be. Do you think it was enough for me when I left the boy I'd raised to burn?" There was no anger in his voice, and somehow that was most startling of all. He didn't like to talk about Anakin, and to hear him do it so calmly was unnerving.

"It's going to be soon, isn't it?" she asked, turning around. He was inches from her, but she didn't move forward against him, though she knew he'd catch her if she did. She didn't want comfort right now: all she wanted was to see the truth in his eyes. "They're going to leave soon, aren't they?"

He let her see what she wanted. There was no deception when he answered, "Yes."

"Some days, Obi-Wan, I wish Anakin had burned longer."

"Oh, Padme," he murmured, sighing heavily. He looked away, so sad all of a sudden, almost enough to make her regret her words. "He _is _still burning. Hate is a fire that never goes out, and it consumes its occupant most ferociously of all. Anakin is still burning in his hate. Don't let yourself do that, too."

She reached up, cupping the side of his face and turning it back toward her until he met her eyes again. He had beautiful eyes, and even if all she could see in them now was a horrible truth, she still couldn't think otherwise. "And if you all die?"

"Then, Padme, I heartily pity the person who kills us."

Her brow wrinkled as he pulled away from her and headed for the door. "What? Why?"

He threw a wry smile over his shoulder, though he did do her the courtesy of pausing, one hand braced on the door. "Because, darling, he'd have to contend with _you_."

Despite the tears that were still threatening, she smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

imagination theater: I really, really appreciate that you made an exception! Thank you!

fayowin2: Thanks!

Tenebrielle: Thanks for giving my story a chance! I really appreciate it! I was a little nervous about Jinn at first, as well—I'm not used to writing OC, but I like how he's turning out overall. Thanks for reading!

anakinpadmekenobi: I agree—her constant comparison is annoying, but that's good, because it's supposed to be. :) I think it even annoys _Padme_. And, yes, Leia will get into the story a little more eventually. That was just an oversight of mine in the last few chapters.

Jessy85: You're right—Padme won't stay passive.

Pronker: I'm so glad someone caught the thing about blaster marks! :)

Lalez: It's not that girls are hard—Padme has actually been quite fun to write. It's just that I always liked Luke better in the movies, and I'd never written the twins as older than children before, so I unconsciously concentrated on the one I liked better. It was an oversight. And I'm glad you like Jinn! :)

ObiBettina7: She never was one to stay at home, was she?

Lady Lurker: Thank you! I always did enjoy Mark Hamill's Luke. :)

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

* * *

The day Luke and Leia left with their father to join the rebellion, Padme cursed Anakin until she was hoarse and Jinn was worried.

She hadn't stopped loving Anakin, of course, but somewhere along the line, during the years spent in exile watching the cataclysm he'd brought down on the entire galaxy, she'd felt the tendrils of resentment creeping in slowly until they'd had a grip on her heart.

Now, all she could see in Vader was the corpse of her fallen husband. He had promised to love her forever, but instead he'd destroyed everything she loved, and she hated him for that. He'd become Vader. He'd become a monster.

Now, he'd even taken her children away from her.

"Mom?"

Not all of them. Not yet. Jinn was still here.

"Yes?" she asked, glancing away from the window where she was staring out over the meadow in front of their house. It was a useless waste of time, but with the majority of her family gone, she found she didn't have much else to do.

"Why are you so angry?"

Inwardly, she cursed herself. Just because Obi-Wan was gone didn't mean that there wasn't anyone here who could read her emotions. In fact, it was _because_ Obi-Wan was gone that Jinn could sense what she was feeling—Obi-Wan usually helped her shield from the children.

"It's nothing," she said, her tone smoothing out and turning gentle. Slowly, she turned away from the window to look at her youngest son.

In the dying light of the day, his copper hair seemed redder than usual. It was refreshing to see nothing of Anakin in him—not that she held that against Luke and Leia. She loved them to pieces, but most days now, she just wished they'd been Obi-Wan's children instead. It would have been simpler.

"Who was he, Mom?"

Tiredly, she ran a hand through her hair. There were a few strands of gray in it now, she noted, though not enough to truly be noticeable. She'd aged well. "Who, Jinn?" she asked, though she already knew.

"Anakin Skywalker."

"No one important." A lie. "Not anymore."

"You were married to him. He's Luke and Leia's father. Doesn't that make him important?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is Luke and Leia's father, just as much as he's yours." The words came out sharper than she'd expected, and she instantly regretted them. She didn't need to take her frustration out on Jinn.

She watched as he chewed on his bottom lip and looked away, glancing back up a moment later. "I know. They know that, too. But I still want to know who he was."

"A mistake," she said simply. "And one that's still haunting us all."

She should never have married Anakin. She couldn't regret the good times—couldn't even really regret _him_—but she did regret the damage it had caused. The galaxy might have been a very different place if she hadn't given in to her feelings. If not for Luke and Leia, she'd be tempted to say that nothing good came from it.

"Are Luke and Leia mistakes?"

"_Never_."

"Then he couldn't have been either."

She gave a tired sigh. "Jinn, I don't want to talk about this."

"Then just tell me who he was, Mom."

"You _know_ who he was," she replied, her voice thinning as she walked away from the window toward the kitchen. She needed to make dinner. Something to keep her busy. Anything. Maybe she should try something more physical, because with all this pent up energy, she certainly wasn't going to sleep tonight. "Your father has told you plenty of stories about him."

"Never what happened to him."

"And, Force willing, you'll never find out," she snapped, finally losing her patience. "Jinn, this is not a conversation we need to have."

"Why not?" he asked, his face a mask of impassivity. Force, he was just like Obi-Wan, including his irritating capacity for lack of emotion in a difficult situation. Still, at this age Obi-Wan had not been in full control of his temper, and neither was Jinn. He wouldn't keep this emotionless façade up long.

"You are fourteen years old. I am your mother. You do not have the right to demand an explanation from me."

Yes, right there. A flash of anger, small, but with the potential to grow. The prospect alone was enough to make her sigh in frustration. She simply didn't want to have this fight. "I just want to know, Mom."

She swept a piece of hair out of her eyes and gritted her teeth as she pulled out a pot. Maybe she'd make soup tonight. That would at least entail chopping vegetables, which might be cathartic in some strange way. Force, she wished Obi-Wan were here. She needed the physical outlet… and that was probably not a line of thought she wanted to go down with a son who could read her emotions. "Well, I don't want you to."

"Why?" he demanded, his voice beginning to become strained as he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"Because I said so. He's not your father, Jinn. It doesn't matter."

"No?" he asked, a hint of red tainting his cheeks. "It wouldn't bother you if your mother had married a man other than your father? I want to know who he was, Mom, and I want to know why you and Dad won't talk about him!"

"Jinn Kenobi," she began, her frustration finally bubbling over, "there are some things you—"

"I _want_ to know," he said quietly, narrowing his eyes. "Tell me."

She felt the Force suggestion brush her mind, and some part of her was furious—entirely so—but she'd never expected it, and had certainly not steeled herself against it. She felt the truth drifting out of her before she could stop it… and, maybe, some tiny part of her wanted to say it. Maybe that was why the Force suggestion had worked at all.

"He was Anakin Skywalker. And he's Darth Vader."

When Padme had been young, her mother had often told her that she ought to be cautious about what knowledge she wished for. Not all information was good information. She hadn't truly learned that until she was much older.

Her son, however, was learning it now.

Jinn's face was draining of color, and his hands had clenched into fists as he fought for his steadily slipping control. She knew the feeling—knew it well—and despite everything she felt sorry that he had to experience the sensation this way.

"Do Luke and Leia know?"

The Force suggestion had slipped away now, and she knew she ought to be furious, but some part of her _was_ relieved to have had the words roll off her tongue. "No," she replied simply. "But I imagine they will now."

He shook his head fervently. "No."

"Was this what you wanted, Jinn? Was this the information you wanted?"

"Mom, no, I—" He turned away, one hand over his mouth, looking as though he might vomit. "Mom, I'm _sorry_."

She nodded. "So am I, Jinn. So am I."

"Dad's going to—to—"

"I suspect your father will probably be far angrier about your less-than-judicious use of the Force than he will about what you've found out, Jinn," she replied wryly. "And if I were you, I'd tell him about it _before_ he finds out on his own."

He nodded, still looking ill—more so by the second, actually. He probably had a right to. Obi-Wan was going to be furious when he found out his son had used a mind trick on his mother. _Padme_ was furious, but dealing with the Force as it related to their children was Obi-Wan's element. She couldn't punish what she really didn't understand.

"I hope it was worth it, Jinn," she told him. Her legs felt leaden as she moved toward the door, but she forced every step, shoulders back and head held high, refusing to let her son see just how unnerved she was. She needed some time alone. Making dinner suddenly didn't feel like a very good idea, anyway—she doubted she'd be able to stomach it if she did.

Judging from the look on his face, she _knew_ her son wouldn't be able to.

He caught her elbow as she walked by him, gently pulling her back. "Did you love him, Mom?" he managed to choke out, the anxious tightening of his fingers easily felt through the cloth of her dress. "Anakin Skywalker?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Is that your way of asking if I loved him more than your father?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Not more. Never more. Just differently. Worse, maybe. And the entire galaxy has paid for it."

She held Jinn's gaze for a few moments more, watching the conflict there. As a mother, she wanted nothing more than to ease that pain away; as a logical being, she knew she could not. Knowledge of the kind that he'd just gained wouldn't be so easily erased.

"We're still paying for it," she said finally.

And they were. What had happened today—it was because of Anakin's memory. The galaxy, so many dead—it was because of what he'd done, and she couldn't think otherwise. Likewise, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to convince herself that she wasn't the reason he fell—that her decisions hadn't condemned a galaxy.

It was a heavy debt to carry. Very heavy, indeed, and getting heavier with every new report of the Empire's activity, but never heavier than when she saw her son turn away and leave the room before her, his expression pained.

As a mother, there was nothing worse than knowing her decisions had hurt her children.

In that moment, she'd never resented either herself or Anakin more.

* * *

Padme was not expecting Leia to show up at her door. She'd left a week before with Obi-Wan and Luke on some errand for the rebellion. They weren't due home for at least another week. Even if they had been, she wasn't expecting her daughter to show up _alone_.

Leia's appearance was slightly haggard: her normally neat hair, which was still curled into two buns on either side of her head, was beginning to come apart, with tendrils poking out haphazardly. Likewise, her clothes were dusty from travel, and even her eyes had dark circles under them.

Most of all, her gaze was haunted, and that scared Padme worst of all.

"Where are your father and brother?" she asked. The words tripped easily off her tongue, but something told her that the answer would be a good deal more difficult to hear.

Leia brushed a piece of hair out of her face. "Luke is at the rebel base."

It was an effort for Padme to fight down the fear that was rising within her. She hadn't mentioned Obi-Wan. "Where is your father, Leia?" she asked again, bracing a hand on the doorframe, maybe just for something to do, or perhaps for the stability she knew she'd need when she heard the answer.

Leia looked away.

Padme's hands clenched on the wood of the door, so hard that she could feel the beginnings of splinters digging at the flesh under her nails. _"Where is he?"_

"Mom?"

She hardly heard Jinn behind her, and even if she'd been more in tuned to his presence, she wouldn't have cared. She didn't care about anything more than getting the answer that she had a chilling feeling she already knew. He'd said he'd come back—he had _promised_ he'd come back.

But he hadn't, a nagging voice inside of her protested. He'd made that promise for individual missions, but he'd never made an absolute promise. He'd only told her he was certain she could take care of herself, and that he pitied the people who killed him, if it came to that.

If he was dead, she hoped he'd be watching in the Force, because she certainly wanted him to see just how seriously she'd taken that statement.

"Where is your father?" she said again, reaching out and gripping Leia's shoulder. "Where?"

Leia's face crumpled. "Mom, we couldn't—_Mom—_"

Padme reached out and framed her daughter's face with her hands. "Tell me what happened," she murmured. Force, her daughter, her beautiful daughter, and she didn't want it to be like this, didn't want her to lose a father a second time—

"He was in-infiltrating the Emperor's super-weapon," she murmured, tears beginning as she fought for breath. No doubt, she'd had the whole journey back to think about the situation; Padme knew better than most how, when something was dwelt upon, you could almost convince yourself it wasn't real, at least until you were forced to speak the reality out loud. Then it became real. It became real, and it _hurt_. "It's a battle station, Mom, with enough power to destroy a planet. And we have to g-get off this planet. Dad said so. He said if he was caught—he just d-didn't know if he could hold out—"

Torture, then. Obi-Wan didn't know if he could avoid giving away their location. She was sure he could—was sure he would probably die before he betrayed his family, but she understood the necessity all the same.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled her daughter close and began to rock her, letting her break down in her arms and sob. She wanted to cry, too, but the tears wouldn't come. She'd cry later—right now, she didn't have the time.

Right now, all she had time to do was act.

"Jinn," she said quietly as she continued to rock Leia. "I want you to go pack."


	7. Chapter 7

SVCrystalGreen: Thanks for making an exception! I'm glad it's working for you so far.

Chasing Liquor: I'm glad you caught that. It was one of my favorite bits of this part. :)

Jedi totallyNsane: Alderaan is safe for now.

HPGal3: Good question. I'm not really sure. I always thought it just had to do with whom the Force ghost chose. For instance, at the end of Return of the Jedi, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Yoda appear to Luke, but Leia doesn't see them, even though she's also Force-sensitive.

Littlefists: The action will definitely pick up now. And I'm glad I could provide relief from finals—I could use some of that myself!

imagination theater: I also feel like this past chapter really fleshed out Jinn's personality. He's fun to write.

estora: The story will be from Padme's perspective all the way through. And don't worry about not reviewing—I certainly know what it's like to be busy.

anakinpadmekenobi: No promises about Obi-Wan, sorry. And, yes, it's kind of a hard situation for everyone.

Jessy85: Sorry, I can't promise anything to do with Obi-Wan. And, yeah, Jinn will be in trouble if Obi-Wan ever find out.

Lalez: Very astute prediction about a certain little Kenobi…

ObiBettina7: The key to Padme succumbing to the mind trick was that, on some level, she wanted to tell. I might have been a little too subtle in how I pointed that out.

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

A/N: Sorry that the updates haven't been as quick in coming. College finals will have that effect.

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Luke came rushing out to meet her when they reached the rebel base. The dark circles under his eyes were as pronounced as Leia's had been, and his clothes were rumpled, as though he'd tumbled into bed still dressed to catch what few hours of sleep he could. From the looks of him, he hadn't been very successful.

"Mom," he murmured, catching her in a tight hug.

He was taller than her now, and while smaller and slighter than Anakin had been, he was undoubtedly no longer a child. Her baby had grown up.

"What happened?" she asked him when she pulled away.

He ran a hand through his hair, and glanced at Jinn and Leia, who were standing behind her. "I don't know, Mom," he replied, his voice breaking halfway through. "It was going well. Dad had the information, but as we were getting out, we got cut off. He told me to hide. I didn't realize he wasn't going to, too."

"He didn't even _try_ to hide?" That wasn't like Obi-Wan. He wouldn't just give up.

Luke's jaw clenched, sharpening the angles of his face and making him appear even wearier. "They didn't know how many people had infiltrated their base. They assumed he was the only one."

Padme didn't try to fight the pain that those words brought—she simply closed her eyes and rode it out until she was in control firmly enough to speak again. "He let them find him so they wouldn't look for _you_," she said finally, her voice shaking only marginally. Good. She needed to be strong.

She could see the guilt in her son's eyes, even before he murmured, "I'm sorry, Mom!" as if he thought the whole event were his fault. Luke had probably picked that up from Obi-Wan. They both wanted to take the guilt of the entire galaxy upon themselves, simply because they were entangled with people who rightly _did_ bear much of the guilt. Guilt by proxy and association, she supposed.

Still, Luke couldn't think that. She wouldn't let him. This had been Obi-Wan's decision, and his alone. Luke couldn't carry the blame.

Guilt like that ate at a person.

She would know.

Her part in Anakin's fall had taught her that.

Taking him by the shoulders, she shook him lightly, her fingers digging in hard enough that she hoped he was feeling it. Luke was far passed the age when he could be physically intimidated by a parent, but she was still his mother, no matter how tall he got, and that was a presence that couldn't be denied. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Your father would tell you the same thing."

He glanced up at her guiltily from beneath his bangs, his eyes flickering towards where Jinn and Leia stood behind her. She was sure they weren't looking at him with blame, though _he _probably thought they were. "Yeah, but because I was stupid enough not to realize what he was doing, he's not here to tell me that."

"But _I _am," she answered, her hands moving to his face, framing it in an attempt to hold his attention. "I am also here to tell you that blame will not get your father back."

"Mom, I don't think _anything_ can do that."

The heartbreak on his face was enough to shatter her as well, had she let it. Once, she might have. When Anakin had left, she _had_ felt shattered. She wasn't going to do that this time. _This _time she'd do what was necessary to bring her loved one home, rather than nearly giving up on life. That was the easy way out, and Force knew, she didn't have that option anymore.

"Maybe not, but I've lost too much already to simply not try."

He nodded, slowly at first, but then more vigorously as he realized what she was saying. Most likely, he'd been told since Obi-Wan disappeared that his father was likely already dead.

Padme knew better.

Tortured, yes, probably, but not dead, and Padme had always disliked people who gave up easily when there was still even the slightest glimmer of hope. Even now, hope or not, she would try anyway, because she had nothing left to do, and giving up was simply not an option she was willing to entertain.

"Senator Organa wants to see you," Luke said quietly after a few moments. "I think he probably wants to try and talk you out of whatever you're about to do."

She nodded. "I used to be a politician, Luke. Clever words don't sway me. Bail knows that better than most."

He nodded and rubbed at his eyes. His exhaustion was so evident, and it made her long to pull him in against her and rock him until he slept, as she'd done when he was a child. Jinn, too. He hadn't been sleeping, either. Both her boys had been too worried to sleep, and even Leia, who'd slept, had done so in such a fitful manner that she might have been better off not even trying. Padme hadn't said anything. They all knew the cause, and she couldn't chastise them when her own sleep was sporadic, so often denied in Obi-Wan's absence. She was used to his warmth against her, the soft sound of his breathing, the weight of his arm over her waist when he held her.

She always had a difficult time sleeping when he was away.

"I'll show you where he is," Luke said finally, stepping by her to give both Jinn and Leia brief, one-armed hugs in greeting before he turned and beckoned with one arm in an unspoken command to follow him.

Padme hadn't been to rebel headquarters before. Obi-Wan had never brought her, and truthfully she wouldn't have even been able to find them if not for Leia. She certainly wouldn't have been able to navigate them if Luke hadn't been here—they were designed to prevent someone who had entered them from easily finding their way.

In another situation, striding down the corridors of the rebel base might have been awkward. It was not because of her marriage to Anakin. That was still a well-kept secret, considering that the only members of the rebellion who were privy to that knowledge were Bail and Obi-Wan, and neither of them was inclined to talk about it.

Her relationship with Obi-Wan, however, was much more well known.

Obi-Wan had always been something of a legend. Once, he'd been the only Jedi in the Order to kill a Sith in a millennia. He'd been General Kenobi in the Clone Wars, and the fabled negotiator. He was the Empire's most-wanted fugitive. Now, his was a name no one ever spoke flatteringly where the Empire might hear, but in the dark spaces and quiet spots, it was whispered synonymously with hope and freedom. If Obi-Wan Kenobi was still fighting the Empire, there was hope…

Obi-Wan had scoffed at the recognition, of course. He always had. Still, that didn't stop him from becoming notorious in the Empire.

Neither did it keep him from becoming revered in the rebellion.

And Padme, by extension, was equally as well known.

The rebellion had known she was living with him, though they had never been told where. She doubted they'd ever find out, and she quite frankly liked it that way. They'd probably never discern exactly what happened with Luke and Leia, either.

Officially, the twins were recorded as Anakin Skywalker's children. No one ever asked Obi-Wan about it, but he'd confided to her that he believed they likely correctly assumed that he'd simply raised his former padawan's children, even if they'd incorrectly assumed that Anakin Skywalker had died in Order 66. They'd all known Padme was the mother, even if they hadn't known about her marriage. They'd also known there was another child, but Obi-Wan didn't make a habit of talking about his family—not when he was well aware of what people might confess under torture—and so Jinn's parentage had remained a mystery to most.

But now, with Jinn trailing behind her, she knew that one glance at him would allow anyone who had come in contact with Obi-Wan to guess at his parentage. It would also clearly confirm what Obi-Wan had been off doing for nineteen years, and Force knew, people did love their gossip, even in times of war…

Let them talk. She didn't care. She was old enough now that what people thought was of little consequence, and given the current circumstances, she was feeling rather spiteful towards the world, anyway. Let them judge her and Obi-Wan.

At least they were judging for _that_, rather than for what people would undoubtedly presume was their part in what Anakin had become.

Still, it was somewhat disconcerting. She was getting glances that were hardly even concealed in the way that they searched her over, blatantly curious. Pilots tuning up their ships, mechanics adjusting the equipment—really, anyone who was loitering in the hanger where she had just landed. They were all curious.

It was disconcerting. Once, she'd born the gazes of people well. She still could, she knew. She'd stayed in shape—her body was still well formed at forty-six years of age, and the black jumpsuit she was wearing flattered it. She'd lost some of the radiance of youth, and her hair was beginning to show trace signs of gray, but she didn't think she was unattractive.

It probably wasn't how she looked, anyway. It was likely just the shock of seeing her again after so long. She was something of a legend herself, she knew.

She was thankful when Bail met her at the door of the hanger.

"Padme," he greeted her, his tone genuinely warm. "It is truly a pleasure to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances."

The years had not been kind to Bail. He still sported a broad-shouldered, muscular physique, but his face had aged. He'd been through a lot, she knew: Breha Organa had died; he'd been constantly under the scrutiny of the Empire; and, well, she doubted hiding a family of the galaxy's most wanted beings on his planet had decreased his stress level.

She would forever be thankful for the sacrifices that he'd made.

"Bail," she greeted with a forced smile. It wasn't that she was displeased to see him—it was simply that smiling genuinely didn't seem possible given the situation. "Where is Obi-Wan?"

His smile dropped, and the lines that now mapped his face twitched as his mouth arched downward in a frown. "Padme, he wouldn't want you to go after him."

She gave him another tight-lipped smile. "Probably not. But he also knows I will."

"He would still tell you not to," he replied, his mounting frustration obvious in the tightening of the muscles in his face. "If you won't listen to me—and I know you won't—can't you at least honor what _he _would have wanted you to do?"

"I was never the type of woman who mindlessly did what she was told, Bail. Obi-Wan knew that. I suspect he admired it, even if it made his life difficult at times."

Bail shook his head slowly, his eyes on his boots for a few moments before he glanced up again, looking her in the eye. There was still so much strength there. Bail had always been strong. "Padme—"

"Tell me where his last location is, Bail, or I swear I'll broadcast my location to the Empire and find him that way. How do you think Obi-Wan would like _that_?"

"Padme, of all the people they'd like to have in their custody, you're at the top of the list."

She smiled. "They have to catch me first."

"They _will_."

She glanced down at the blaster on her belt. It would feel good to use it again. Naboo. Geonosis. After those, it felt like a faithful friend. "You know who Darth Vader is Bail. You're one of the few who does. You know what Obi-Wan has walked into."

"So you want to join him in that?" Bail snapped, throwing up his hands. He seldom lost his composure, but he was close—she could tell. It wasn't surprising, really—to him, her logic must seem like madness. "You know who Vader is as well, Padme, and you know there's no one he'd like to find more than you. Have you considered you might make things worse for Obi-Wan by going?"

She nodded. "I considered it. But, Bail, you're not changing my mind on this. No one is. And if Vader wants to kill us, then he's going to have to look me in the face while he does it."

Bail wasn't accepting. She didn't expect him to be. He didn't understand this. The only example she could have given to make him understand would have been one involving Breha, and she didn't enjoy opening old wounds. There was no need—she didn't need his understanding anyhow.

She only needed his consent.

"Get me a ship," she said simply, hands on her waist. It felt right. Blaster on her hip, hair pulled back—she felt like the Queen of Naboo again, fighting for her people as they staged an assault on the capital in order to capture the viceroy. She was Padme Amidala, and she was tired of hiding. It had been necessary while it had lasted, but this was what she was meant for, and no one was going to tell her otherwise.

She was ready.

Vader had better be, too.


	8. Chapter 8

fayowin2: Haha, power to Padme indeed!

PadawanMom: Thanks very much! I hope the way Vader's appearance goes is what you were hoping for.

DarkGoddess2002: Mmm, that's one of my biggest problems with a lot of Padme/Obi-Wan stories—they just completely ignore her love for Anakin. Thanks for reviewing!

Littlefists: No, that makes perfect sense. Sometimes, I'd prefer to leave some of the exposition out, but when I do it seems like I get a lot of questions about the plot.

Lalez: Good call on Vader. That will certainly be a problem for him.

ObiBettina7: Oh, Luke and Leia will have their moment…

Pronker: The idea of a kid who looked like Obi-Wan walking through the rebellion's headquarters really struck me as funny. At least, the ideas of the looks he'd get seemed funny to me.

Torli:Haha, yes, Obi-Wan does seem almost prophetic there, doesn't he? :)

Lady Lurker: Yes, I understand about exams, believe me! That's why the updates have been slower in coming. Oh, college…

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

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Docking at the emergency airlock wasn't the most complex of maneuvers. It might have been considered creative, but Padme couldn't lay claim to it. She'd actually gotten the idea from Anakin, back from when he and Obi-Wan had rescued her from Grevious while she was onboard the _Malevolence_. It felt good to turn his own tricks back on him.

_What's mine is yours_, she thought smugly as she stepped off the ship. So much for marital bliss.

Sinking down behind a stanchion of the wall, Padme took a moment to survey her surroundings. So, this was the monstrosity termed the _Death Star_. She would have laughed if the situation weren't so dire. Of all the things to call a battle station. Apparently, the Emperor had all the subtly of the cannon shots that were fired in commemoration of the dead during the annual ceremonies on Naboo. She regretted that she'd never been able to personally attend the celebration of her home planet's liberation from Trade Federation control, but with any luck they'd soon make the galaxy free enough that she could do so.

The inside of the _Death_ _Star _wasn't much to look it. It was all dull metal, dark and reeking with depression. She didn't need the Force to tell her that this was an unhappy place. It even smelled slightly stale, probably from the processed air.

"All right, Artoo," she murmured, glancing over at the little astromech. She'd been pleased to find that Bail had kept him in such good condition. Droid or not, he was a friend and, at the very least, something she could count on. "Find him."

Artoo gave her an affirmative whistle and plugged into the station.

Padme sank back against the wall to wait, mentally thanking her son for the fact that when he'd escaped, he'd managed to keep Obi-Wan's sacrifice from being in vain: he'd safely delivered the plans to the _Death_ _Star _to the rebel alliance. Bail had supplied her with them, and she'd mapped out a plan to at least get on board. The rest depended on Artoo's ability to locate Obi-Wan.

It didn't take Artoo long to project a map for her. "He's there?" she asked, forcing her voice to stay low and calm as she pointed to the blinking place on the map.

Artoo beeped his confirmation, and she nodded. "Not far then. Heavily guarded?"

A low whistle. Negative. Why not? Why wouldn't Obi-Wan be well guarded? Vader wouldn't underestimate him. That would be tactical foolishness, and whatever his faults, Anakin had always been a competent tactician.

He'd also, she realized, never been one to delegate if he thought the job was too important for error.

Swallowing down the lump that had risen in her throat, Padme stood up, back to the wall and took a deep breath. Her palms had begun to sweat. Nerves? Probably. That was especially likely now that she'd realized why Obi-Wan didn't have a large guard.

He was with Vader.

"All right, Artoo. Can I get there through the ventilation shafts?"

His answer came in the form of a red line across the plans he'd projected. Apparently, she could. That was good. Then, she'd have to wait for Vader to leave… and he'd have to eventually. He still had to sleep, didn't he? She didn't like to think of him as a person anymore, but surely he still had to sustain basic human functions? Once he left, she could sneak in. The cuff around her wrist should take care of him detecting her, as it would dampen her presence in the Force, achieving much the same results as a Jedi's shields. It was something the rebellion had gleaned from what they could salvage from the Temple. The rarity of the object certainly made it valuable and hard to obtain, and she was thankful to Bail for procuring it for her.

"Stay with the ship, Artoo," she murmured. "If you're discovered, release the docking clamp and take-off, but be sure to notify me on my comlink. If that happens I'll find other transportation, understand?"

He whistled his consent and detached himself from the central computer. With one last, almost mournful beep, he began rolling back in the direction of the ship. He didn't need to use words to get his point across.

She very much hoped it wasn't the last time she'd see him, either.

_Don't concentrate on that right now_, she chided herself. It wouldn't help, and it would only distract her. She had a job to do. That was the main thing. She'd just have to trust that she _would_ see him again.

"I will," she murmured to herself as she undid the covering to a vent and slipped inside. And she would. Both her and Obi-Wan would see him again.

Activating the tiny computer that she was wearing on the wrist not occupied by the Force-suppressing cuff, she took a moment to scan the map that Artoo had sent to her when he'd hacked the ship's computers. Obi-Wan's location wasn't far. The tricky part wouldn't be finding it—it would be waiting until Vader left, because whatever she was about to see, she doubted it would be pleasant.

For a moment, she dug her fingers down against the metal beneath her, trying to mentally ready herself. Then, she began to crawl.

The difficult thing about crawling through a ventilation shaft was that it gave the illusion of going in circles. No matter what she did, it felt circuitous, and without the Force, she could only rely on her map. It didn't feel sufficient, and it certainly didn't quiet the niggling sense in her mind that she was going the wrong way.

Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes ticked by. Any sound caused her to freeze, and though she did the best she could to be silent, shuffling along on her hands and knees, it seemed to her that she was as loud as if she'd been pounding her knees against the metal. Surely someone would have to hear her?

But no one did.

No one stopped her, and she reached her location.

Crouching down on her stomach, she slid forward slowly until she could see into the room below. Dust slid across her shirt and into her face, but she held her breath, avoiding any costly mishaps. Once it had cleared, she peered cautiously down from the vent.

The sight she saw turned her stomach.

Pictures. Pictures everywhere. All of Luke and Leia. They were scattered all over the floor, around Obi-Wan, who was kneeling on the floor amongst them. Many of the photos looked as though they'd been taken off security cameras, probably from when the twins had infiltrated buildings in search of information. Others seemed to have been snapped during live action. Most of those were of Luke, usually in his x-wing, but occasionally engaged in a ground assault, his lightsaber blazing. Apparently, he'd gained quite the reputation. Leia was there, too, though as her roll was more of the behind the scenes command, there were less of her, and none of her flying.

"These aren't your children, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"They're not the right age. These are _mine_. The boy—he looks like me."

"I hardly think you can see the likeness now."

Vader smashed a fist into his face. Flying sideways, Obi-Wan sprawled across the ground, hands still cuffed behind his back. That was dirty, Padme thought bitterly. Hitting someone who couldn't hit back. Anakin had never been that cowardly. Apparently, the dark side had also made him a cheap fighter.

"Where are my children, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan spat blood onto the floor, and glanced up at Vader with just the barest hint of distaste. "Safe."

Vader stood impassively over him, and in that second, Padme knew without a doubt that this was no longer a man she'd once loved. There could be something of him hidden in there, but the creature before her—the _monster_—was not him. He was the thing that had killed her husband, and was now doing his best to eventually do the same to Obi-Wan.

In return, she would do her best to kill Vader.

Vader slammed a foot into Obi-Wan's stomach, ignoring his harsh groan. "Was taking my limbs not enough, Obi-Wan? Did mutilating me not satisfy you? Did you have to take my children, too?"

Though certainly not out of mercy, Vader paused, allowing Obi-Wan enough breath to form a reply. "I didn't take anything from you. You abandoned them."

"Everything I did, I did for _them_."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed, nodding as he narrowed his eyes. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and she had to wonder just how much Vader had done before she'd gotten there. "Yes, and look where it has gotten you."

Padme half expected the blow that followed, but she hadn't quite expected it to come in the form of Vader grabbing Obi-Wan with invisible hands and flinging him at the opposite wall with a strength that could only come from the Force. The shock of it was enough to draw a gasp out of her, and for a moment she was afraid she'd be heard, but Vader seemed entirely concentrated on his prisoner—too much so to take note of anything else.

With his hands behind his back, Obi-Wan was unable to block the collision, and he smashed hard into the wall before crumpling to the floor. He was still. There was no attempt to rise, and that scared her most of all. Obi-Wan always got up.

She expected him to collect himself and get to his feet. Any moment, he'd get up, and face Vader, probably with another witty comment, but never with anything less than the strength he always exhibited.

He didn't move.

But Vader did.

Padme never had time to react. Vader swung high, quickly striking to each side of her, and the ventilation shaft crumpled under her before she could move. Unable to grab anything—a gesture that would have been useless, anyhow, now that Vader knew she was here—she plummeted to the ground below, landing in a heap of metal and dust.

The landing hurt, but adrenaline pushed her to spring to her feet, hand going to her blaster out of instinct. It never got there: the blaster flew from her hip just as her fingers brushed it, slipping away and into Vader's grasp before she'd even had the opportunity to fire a shot.

Then, silence.

She could do nothing except stand her ground, staring at the black-suited monster in front of her. She didn't feel fear at that moment—she was far past that point—but her heart pounded in her chest, and her hands began to tingle as the rapid beats seemed to push anger out into her extremities along with blood.

He was tall, taller than Anakin had been. Was the added height intended to make him more imposing? The height _was_ slightly intimidating, but it didn't make up for the rest of his attire. Truthfully, if she hadn't known just what he was capable of, she might have been tempted to laugh at his appearance. He looked as though a little child who was trying to define the epitome of evil had put his outfit together—all black; a cape; large, bug-like eyes.

Only, a little child hadn't made up a man who killed in mass.

That was real.

That was Darth Vader, and he was standing in front of Padme.

"You're dead." The words didn't have the kind of effect they might have held if Vader hadn't been forced to say them in a synthesized voice.

She raised her chin and glared up at him, refusing to let him see her as anything less than strong. "Clearly not."

It should have felt surreal to be facing the monster her husband had become but, somehow, it didn't. That, she supposed, stemmed from her inability to connect the two people: it didn't feel as though she was facing Anakin Skywalker. This was Darth Vader, and no one else. He was simply an enemy to be faced down, and not her one-time husband.

"You had a funeral. On Naboo."

"It was a cremation for a reason."

"I sensed your Force signature in those ashes."

Obi-Wan still wasn't moving. He wasn't dead—out of the corner of her eye, she could see his chest rising and falling, but somehow she needed to work her way over to that side of the room to assess how badly he was injured. "You're as gullible as you are evil, apparently."

"There was something of you in those remains."

"Do you think Obi-Wan is stupid?" she snapped, crossing her arms, more to hide the shaking of her hands than anything. Without her blaster, she felt exposed, and the knowledge that this couldn't end well was slowly beginning to sink in. "The ashes consisted of my burned clothing, the and some of my hair."

He hooked the blaster onto his belt. "Apparently, Kenobi thought of everything." Even with a synthesized voice, it was impossible to hide the bitterness that hung in those words. Obi-Wan's name, especially, was smeared with disdain.

Once, Anakin had loved Obi-Wan, she knew. Once, he'd loved _her_. Did this creature in front of her even know how to love anymore? Or was his heart so black that he was no longer capable of it?

"Where are our children, Padme?" he asked finally, reaching out towards her with a black-gloved hand. There was no tremor in it, but then that was to be expected—that hand was a machine. "I know you must have given them to Obi-Wan to care for, but don't you see? Now we can be as we were meant to be. We can rule the Empire together, with our children at our side."

She dug her fingers into her arms until her knuckles turned white. "I didn't just give them to Obi-Wan. _I_ cared for them, too." He thought he could play her by offering the family he thought she'd lost… but she hadn't lost them. Only _he_ had. "You can't give me anything I want, Vader."

His hand dropped, clenching just once at his side.

Then, she felt the Force wash over her.

It wasn't like when Obi-Wan touched her with the Force. This was like a bucket of icy water, dousing her from head to foot, so cold that she couldn't breathe, could hardly even _think. _She could hear herself screaming, felt herself falling, but she didn't know up from down, and could hardly begin to catch herself, let alone muster any sort of fight against what Vader was doing.

This was the dark side.

When it was over, she found herself lying on her back on the metal floor, gasping for air. The coldness of the metal she was lying on seemed to seep into her, melding with the iciness that had been left behind from the dark side's touch. She was _so_ cold.

Vader was where he had been when she'd fallen, this time with both fists clenched.

"His presence is inside of you."

Not even the icy feel of the dark side was as cold as her following realization: he knew. The conclusion he'd drawn had been from illogical means—the idea that just because she'd raised the children along with Obi-Wan, she'd slept with him—but it was still the correct one. It was still undeniable, given the physical evidence.

By being pregnant with Jinn, an inerasable part of Obi-Wan had been inside of her. The remnants of that didn't just fade away—Jinn had left an imprint on her and, by extension, so had Obi-Wan… and Vader could sense it.

"There is another child."

"You'll never find him," she spat.

Vader crossed his arms, mirroring her position. "Perhaps not, but I _have_ found his father."

"But, as I believe she's pointed out, Anakin, not the child. Do pay attention."

It was a testament to just how thrown Vader was by the information he'd discovered that he hadn't sensed Obi-Wan's awakening. Padme had been too concentrated on Vader. Neither of them had noticed Obi-Wan was awake until he spoke, pushing himself up into a sitting position against the wall.

"You shouldn't have come, Padme," Obi-Wan told her solemnly, but with some affection. Sad affection, but still warm, and she smiled despite herself.

Obi-Wan looked tired. Not just from lack of sleep, but from life in general. Not old—not yet. He'd kept in good shape, and his body was still well formed. He did sport a few wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, but they weren't deep, and the life in his eyes was enough to offset them. Even his hair, though mostly run through with gray now, still had a few strands of copper.

Old or not, he did bear the signs of abuse: a cut ran across his forehead, dribbling blood, but other than that, the collision with the wall didn't seem to have done him any major damage. However, there were other various bumps and bruises—inflicted mostly before she'd arrived—and she wondered what other injuries she couldn't see.

Vader, of course, seemed eager to add a good deal more.

"You took her from me!" he growled, spinning around to face Obi-Wan, his black cape swirling with him in a storm of black.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "If I recall, you used that line last time, as well. Try to at least be original, Vader." Sighing, he added, "Regardless, my answer is still the same: I didn't take anything from you. You let it all slip away _yourself._"

He'd already resigned himself to dying, she realized. His words and tone were that of a man who cared very little if he aggravated his enemy's temper. He expected to die, and so he intended to do it with his head held high and sarcasm intact.

It was so characteristic of Obi-Wan that she wanted to cry.

Instead, when Vader used a wave of the Force to send Obi-Wan's head snapping back into the wall, she took the opportunity to dart past Vader.

Settling by Obi-Wan's side, she took his arm and helped him back up into a sitting position. His skin, which she brushed when she slid her fingers around his wrist under his robe, was warm. It was a small comfort—a reminder of the nights when he'd held her, warm and safe in bed, and years away from the place where they were now.

"You betrayed me with _him_," Vader seethed, gesturing angrily in Obi-Wan's direction.

The comment was absurd. Who had betrayed whom? "It's hard to betray a man who no longer exists, Vader. I was married to Anakin. Anakin is dead."

"_I_ am your husband."

No. Never. "I'd die before admitting that."

His black hand jerked up, pointing angrily at her, as if by his gesture alone he could convey the fury he was feeling. "As you well may!"

"Then kill me!" she challenged, clinging tighter to Obi-Wan's arm. Now, fear was at least pricking at her—how could it not in the face of death?—but she did not dread her own demise. Once, she'd almost been at the point of orchestrating it herself, all because of the creature in front of her.

How glad she was that she hadn't.

She would have missed so much that was worth living for.

She imagined Obi-Wan could feel the waves of rage and fury rolling off Vader. She was no Jedi, and she nearly could herself. All his hate and anger poured into the room, culminating when he ignited his red blade and started towards her.

She closed her eyes and leaned against Obi-Wan, sinking into his hold when he curled around her as best as his bound hands would allow. There was no protection to be had, but the gesture was about comfort… and maybe a last "I love you."

Above her, she heard the hum of a lightsaber, descending, descending, and then striking. The smell of burnt flesh, a sharp grunt, and then Obi-Wan's hold slacking around her.

It took her a moment to realize that the smell of flesh was not her own, nor the grunt from her own mouth. She was unharmed.

Obi-Wan fell to the side.

At first, she felt nothing. She was watching Obi-Wan take a last breath, but she wasn't truly _seeing_ it. There was no feeling, and if she'd pinched herself at that moment, she doubted she'd have experienced discomfort. She didn't feel _anything_.

When she did, it all came at once, overwhelming her in a flood of pain.

No. No. Nononononono. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She'd been prepared for her own death. She'd been prepared for Obi-Wan's. What she hadn't been prepared for was to live separately from him—to live when he died.

"Oh, Force, _no_," she gasped, reaching down and cupping his face in her hands, patting, almost striking, as if that would bring him back. It wouldn't, of course, and through her shock and rising grief, she knew that. There was no sight in his eyes—only a gapping hole through his heart.

At least it had been quick.

"I will never kill you, Padme," Vader announced emotionlessly as he reached down, grasping her arm in a mechanical grip. With a harsh jerk, he pulled her up and away from Obi-Wan.

"Let _go_!" she shrieked, twisting frantically in his hold. She could feel the edges of reality blurring around her as hysteria settled heavily onto her. Obi-Wan. _Obi-Wan—_

At first, she thought she'd gone mad. Maybe she had, and perhaps she was only imagining the tightening of Vader's hand around her wrist, induced by shock. Maybe she was only imaging Obi-Wan's body fading, sinking away into nothingness, as his robes fluttered to the ground.

He was _gone._

Without warning, she began to laugh.

It was a mad sound—one that had no logic, and she didn't care, not at all, because, oh, this was perfect. It was so like the Obi-Wan she loved, and it was a little irksome that he hadn't _told_ her ahead of time, but worth it, because his body was _gone_.

"Why are you laughing?" Vader demanded, grabbing one her shoulders with each hand, and shaking her hard, harder still as she kept laughing, until her head was snapping back and forth with the force of his movement.

Finally, breathless, she choked out, "You couldn't defeat him in life, and you couldn't in death, either. How does it feel to know he had the final laugh?" Not that Obi-Wan would laugh. He was too good for that—too much a Jedi. But _she _would laugh. She would revel in the fact that Obi-Wan had showed up Vader in the last way he could… and there was nothing Vader could do about it, because Obi-Wan was _gone_. In killing him, Vader had handed him victory.

"He did not," Vader snapped, sounding so like Padme's children when they were trying to argue a point they logically knew they'd already all but lost. "I still have _you_."

"Oh, and what a victory it is," she snapped caustically, her eyes still fixed on Obi-Wan's clothing. "You've _lost_, Vader."

Soon, the rebels would utilize the plans they had to destroy this battle station. She'd die, of course. She and everyone on it. That was what she wanted—she'd instructed Bail to eliminate the threat if she and Obi-Wan didn't find a way off. Well, they hadn't, and now all she had to do was sit back and wait. It was regrettable that she had died separately from Obi-Wan, but it was really only a very minor setback—she'd soon be joining him anyway.

"We'll see," he replied icily, giving a good yank to her elbow.

She followed him to the door. It was only a matter of time now; for the moment, she could afford to let him think he'd won a small victory.

It would simply make defeat that must harsher when it came.


	9. Chapter 9

Wings90: Yup, it will only be from Padme's POV. Keep waiting on the _Death Star_, though—that will show up eventually. :)

Torli: Good catch on the thing with his hands! I'll have to edit that! Thank you! And I think Vader was surprised, but since nothing can show on his face and his voice isn't as expressive as it would be if he didn't have the mask, it's not going to show in the same way it would with someone else.

HPGal3: Oh, that's definitely not the end. There are a few more chapters to go.

kicho14:  Don't worry too much about Obi-Wan being out of the story. He's not gone for good yet.

PorcelainHeart94:  Haha, updates are slow compared to my usual pace. I like to try to get something up every three days or so. The story is actually mostly finished—it's just editing now.

13: Yes, I think that Vader was something of a stalker…

Jessy85: Yes, Obi-Wan will be making another appearance.

anakinpadmekenobi: I think Vader is too far gone to be easily redeemed by anyone, even Padme. And Obi-Wan really wasn't surprised—he did kind of suspect she'd show up at some point, I think.

Maddie Rose: As requested, here's more of Jinn. :)

Lalez: Well, Jinn may not tell them the truth, but he certainly is going to attempt to make things right.

ObiBettina7: Yes, I think "mostly" is the key word…

Pronker: I kind of thought that was what Vader did all through the Original Trilogy. He was just so bitter and lost that he kept denying he had any good at all. I think he lies to himself as much as he does to anyone else.

imagination theater: Obi-Wan may be dead, but don't count him out of the story completely. He's still got a roll to play. And, yes, I enjoyed his sarcasm as well. :)

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

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Three days later, she and Vader were at a stalemate. He'd offered her just about anything someone could want, and every time he had, she'd rebuffed him, sometimes laughing in his face, other times just glaring coldly. On occasion, she didn't react at all.

He hadn't hurt her yet. He'd wanted to at times—she could tell, but he'd held himself back, probably thinking that would lessen his chances of gaining her cooperation even further. It wouldn't, of course. He couldn't decrease the chances when they were already non-exist. _Nothing_ would make her cooperate with him.

At least, she hadn't thought so.

"Padme," he murmured on the beginning of the third day.

For three days, she'd been in a room with a great transparisteel window that looked out onto space. All of the furnishings were the best, but she'd scorned them all, instead sleeping on the floor and utilizing only the chair she was sitting in now. She'd given in to that small comfort merely because she didn't want to sit at Vader's feet. She didn't like the implications of that.

Vader knelt down in front of her, placing his mechanical hands on her knees. She shuddered at the touch and recoiled; he didn't press the issue.

He was so dark. She couldn't touch the Force, but she could still sense inky blackness permeating every part of him, including his interactions with her. When he'd turned, how had she missed that? How had she missed the signs leading up to that final decision to abandon the light? Had it been willing blindness? Would it have even mattered if she'd seen?

"You are still beautiful, you know," he said quietly, getting back to his feet.

She rolled her eyes. "I hardly care if you think I am or not." Besides, he was lying anyway—she doubted she was very attractive at the moment. She hadn't showered since she'd left the rebel base, and though Vader had brought her a number of fine sets of clothing—most mirroring her taste in garments from her days as Senator—she'd refused to change. She knew she smelled, but Vader had said nothing. Even her hair had begun to come undone, and the previous night she'd simply given up and yanked it down, leaving it to float freely around her shoulders and down her back. It was a mess. _She_ was a mess.

Vader's hand came up to gently brush one of the strands of her hair out of her face. His fingers tangled in it halfway down, but he simply smoothed out the knot. "We could have everything, Padme."

She slapped his hand away. "You don't have anything I want."

There was nothing he could offer her. Nothing.

For a moment, he was still, his hand off to her side. It was so unlike him not react that she found herself worried, and perhaps a little interested. At the very least, it prompted her to look up into what passed as his face… only to find nothing of him there. All that met her eyes was her own reflection, worn and tired, in the black of his helmet. She hated to think of the symbolism of that.

With a slight nod of his head, Vader stepped back, hands tucked behind his back.

"I think that I do, Padme."

"By all means, then," she replied, lifting an eyebrow, "try me."

She anticipated more talk. Surely, he would press on trying to convince her, promising her grandiose things that she would never want. It hadn't worked yet, and it still wouldn't, but she fully anticipated that he'd keep trying. Instead, he turned away from her and went to the door, pressing it open. "Bring him in," Vader ordered, stepping back.

Every Huttese swear she'd every learned from either Obi-Wan or Anakin raced through her head as she saw exactly what Vader had managed to obtain.

Of all the things. Anything else—_anything_—and she would have remained strong. But this—she couldn't be strong for _this_.

"Let him go!" she yelled, throwing herself to her feet and rushing forward to her son's side as the stormtroopers threw him down at her feet.

Jinn looked unharmed. There was a bruise on his cheek, and he appeared rather shaken, but his face was twisted in an expression of defiance. Scowling, he wiped a hand across his mouth and angled his gaze up at her and Vader.

Vader merely crossed his arms and regarded Padme impassively. "Do I still have nothing you want?"

"Mom," Jinn murmured, pushing himself to his knees and wrapping an arm around her back, as though he thought he could protect her from the dark figure threatening them both. It was a good front—if a little absurd for a child—but the shaking in his hands gave him away. "Are you okay?"

"Don't waist your energy, boy," Vader told him with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Your mother has nothing to fear from me."

Padme pulled them both to their feet, stepping in front of her boy. Chin lowered and eyes blazing, she stared Vader down, glaring into the dark oculars that obscured what had once been enchanting blue eyes. Obi-Wan had told her they'd turned red and yellow at the end. Were they that color still?

"If you hurt him—"

"You will be able to do nothing," Vader finished simply.

"I will _never_ cooperate with you if you harm him." Jinn was her _son_, and twisted as Vader was, surely he had the common sense to realize that she, as a mother, would protect her child with her life? He had to know that if he killed Jinn, it would in no way gain her cooperation.

"How old are you, boy?" Vader asked, striding forward until he was a few feet beyond Padme.

Glancing behind her, Padme saw that Jinn was bravely looking Vader in the face, though she could feel him shaking from where he was pressed at her back. He was only a little taller than her—still short enough that she felt herself a sufficient barrier between him and Vader.

To get to Jinn, he would have to move her first… and she'd die before she let him do that.

"Fourteen," he replied, his voice remarkably steady. He didn't have his father's Corusanti accent, but the strength there reminded Padme so much of Obi-Wan that she had to swallow against her impending tears. How was she going to tell Jinn that his father was dead?

Vader looked back at Padme. "You've been sleeping with Obi-Wan for at least fourteen years?" he asked, laughing bitterly. "Tell me, wife, was he a fine replacement?"

"He wasn't a replacement, you monster," she spat. "He's a better man than you _ever _were."

That, apparently, was finally enough to make Vader take the swing she'd been expecting for days now. It wasn't a hard blow, but it was enough so that, when it made contact, she staggered backward into her son, who cried out and pulled her away, surging forward in front of her in a gesture of protection that she knew to be useless should Vader truly want to hurt her.

It wasn't _all_ true, of course. Anakin had been a good man—a man she'd loved. He'd been a good person, but her aim was to hurt and anger this creature in front of her, and she knew just how to do it.

As she cradled her cheek, Vader seemed to compose himself. His hand remained outstretched for a moment longer, as if he was surprised at what he'd just done, before he let it drop and took a step back.

"You look like Kenobi," Vader told Jinn almost impassively as the boy planted himself firmly in front of his mother.

He did. The hair. The eyes. His build. Even his mannerisms were Obi-Wan's, and while there was some of Padme in his face, he looked far more like his father. He was a beautiful child who would grow more handsome with age.

Unfortunately, his resemblance to his father would make Vader all the more likely to hurt him. With that knowledge in mind, Padme grabbed her son's shoulder and pulled him back behind her. Vader could do whatever he wanted to her, but she would never let him touch her son if she had the power to stop it. "Why are you here, Jinn?" she murmured, though her eyes were still on Vader, waiting for his next move.

"I—I felt b-badly about making you tell me who he was, and I was scared, Mom. I knew what you were facing, and I didn't want to lose you and Dad."

She forced her face to remain expressionless, lest Vader glean some sort of advantage from the knowledge of her emotions. "You shouldn't have come after me." Her foolish, brave boy. He'd known Vader was Anakin Skywalker—he'd known that the problems between her, Obi-Wan, and Vader had been far more personal than they might have at first seemed. Luke and Leia hadn't known, but Jinn _had,_ and it had made him desperate enough to come after her.

"It seems that he takes after you," Vader interjected, seeming somewhat amused. Then again, she might have been projecting that—it was difficult to tell, given the artificial quality of his voice. "You came after me on Mustafar. You should not have. None of this would have happened if you had stayed where I told you to."

"And none of this would have happened if you hadn't betrayed everything you believed in," she countered angrily. Reaching out behind her, she got a grip on Jinn's shirt and held him there, lest he try to get in front of her again.

Between the two of them, Jinn was in far more danger from Vader than she. He was her child, yes, but he was also Obi-Wan's, and she knew Vader was seeing his former master in Jinn. It would be impossible not to, and considering the hatred Vader felt for Obi-Wan, it was difficult to imagine that it wouldn't be transferred over to Jinn.

They were at an impasse. Vader couldn't convince her of anything, and he also wouldn't let her leave. Would they simply keep at this until they both wasted away and died? Somehow, she suspected Vader would rather do that than give in.

"I will make you a deal," he said finally, breaking the silence that she'd anticipated would stretch on for longer. "You join me, and I will let Kenobi's son go."

Her mouth felt parched and she noticed that her hands were shaking. She hadn't expected that, and the unexpected unnerved her. Still, it was a reasonable proposal from his point of view, and far more generous than she would have expected. At the very least, it was certainly worth considering.

Jinn, apparently, disagreed. "No!" he snapped from behind her, pushing forward against her hand.

She tightened her grip on his shirt. In a way, it would be the same deal Anakin had made with Sidious: sell your soul to save the one you love. But, in reality, it would be _very_ different. Soon, the _Death Star_ would be destroyed. Joining Vader would only have to be a temporary act… and it would get Jinn to safety before the battle station was destroyed.

"Mom, no!" Jinn pleaded, his voice dropping in fear from behind her as he realized that she was considering it. "Mom, _no_."

"How do I know you'll let him go?"

"I will let you watch him leave."

"NO!" Jinn shouted, this time wrenching himself free from Padme's grip and pushing her behind him again. She could see the panic in the line of his shoulders, and even before he opened his mouth, she knew his fear at the prospect of losing her would make him say something unwise.

After all, he was her child as well as Obi-Wan's.

"You're pathetic," he spat at Vader. There was a red tinge to his cheeks, creeping toward his hairline and down the back of his neck. She wondered if, had he been raised around other children, he would have been teased for having a redhead's temper. Had Obi-Wan been teased for that?

Force, _Obi-Wan_. She couldn't think about him. If she did, she'd lose her self-control, and she had to at least keep that intact until she'd made this deal. Her son's life depended on it… perhaps more than she realized.

Without warning, Jinn began to choke. It was a soft gagging sound at first, as if he couldn't quite believe it anymore than she could. How could Vader do this now, knowing the memories she had of it? Of all the things he would do, it was _this_.

Padme felt her vision flash red.

She was not a Jedi. She could not turn to the dark side of the Force. However, Obi-Wan had always still warned her against giving into hate, but as she watched her child being choked, she found that she didn't care. Obi-Wan was dead, and Jinn would be next if she didn't do something.

"Let him go!" she very-nearly screamed, rushing forward and hitting at Vader's chest with balled fists. He grunted slightly, falling back a little against the assault, but beyond that, he hardly even acknowledged her. "LET HIM GO!"

Vader did. Whether he'd done it because he'd been surprised at her actions or because he'd simply finally gotten her attention, she didn't care, as long as Jinn was all right. She would rip Vader apart with her bare hands if she had to in order to protect her child… or she would die trying, whichever came first.

Padme glanced behind her and saw that Jinn had fallen to his knees, gasping for air. He looked stunned, but nothing else seemed to be physically wrong.

"I want you to let him go. Now."

Vader nodded. "As you wish." A quick wave of his arm brought several stormtroopers from where they'd been waiting at the door. They moved almost mechanically across the room, the sound of their boots on the floor echoing off the walls of the room as rhythmically as the beat of drums before a battle. Carefully, two of them took Jinn's arms, while another focused a blaster on him.

"Mom? Mom, don't let him do this!" Jinn pleaded, begging with both his words and his gaze. His eyes looked blue-gray in this light, but still so changeable, like his father's.

She choked down the lump in her throat. "I need you to tell Luke and Leia to proceed with the plans," she said slowly. "It's important, Jinn. You have to remember to tell them that."

He nodded fervently as he was pulled to his feet. "What about Dad? Where's Dad?"

She wanted to cry. So badly, she wanted to cry, but if she did, she knew her son would lose his control as well. She needed to be strong for him. "Your father is dead, Jinn. Tell Luke and Leia that as well." She managed to get the words out evenly, which she considered a victory, given the bile that rose in her throat as she talked.

Despite her best efforts, Jinn's control cracked anyway. "NO!" he choked out, suddenly twisting against his guards. He was thrashing hard enough that she feared he'd hurt himself, and instinct alone prompted her to press forward and catch his face between her hands. He stilled then, gazing down at her. She could see in his face that he was clinging to her every word in desperation for some sort of good news.

She couldn't give it to him.

"Baby, your father wouldn't want you to do this," she murmured, stroking back his hair. He leaned into the touch as tears began to trickle down his face. He looked so young—every bit the fourteen-year-old child that he was—and it broke her heart to see it. "He'd want you to be strong."

"Oh, Force, _Dad_," he whispered. "Mom, he's not really gone, is he? He can't be…"

She rubbed a thumb over his cheek, wiping away the liquid trails. Once, when he'd been younger she'd dried his tears like this, but not for a very long time now… and she never would again. "Do you remember what I told you to tell Luke and Leia, Jinn? It's very important."

He nodded, his breathing shaky.

"Tell me."

"P-Proceed with t-the p-plans."

"Good job," she whispered. "And, Jinn, I want you to listen to Luke and Leia. They'll take care of you, all right? Bail Organa, too. He'll take care of all of you. Remember that, okay, sweetie?"

He nodded again, and she reached forward to pull him in against her, giving into the inclination to rock him, just for a few moments, as she had when he was a child. She wouldn't see him again, she knew. She was looking at her baby for the last time.

"I love you, Jinn," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple before she let him go. "Do what I told you."

It was a shear mastery of will that allowed her to give the stormtroopers a nod, and the act alone nearly tore her apart. If it hadn't, the look on her boy's face when they began dragging him away from her certainly did.

"Mom!" he shouted, trying to twist away and go back to her. "Momma!"

His screams and shouts echoed even after he'd been pulled out into the corridor and away from her.

Once he was gone, she let her tears come.


	10. Chapter 10

SilverBladesGal: Thank you! I'm glad you like Jinn (and Obi-Wan).

qtgirl33: Sorry, there won't be any Han or Chewie. The whole thing is pretty much written. Thanks for reading, though!

Jedi X-Man Serena Kenobi: Thanks! :)

Estora: Yes, a virtual world would indeed be nice. I certainly wish I could live there sometimes. :) And you can comment on Padme's character as much as you'd like. My intention was to portray her that way, so it's nice to know that I'm succeeding. Good observation about being the person on the other end watching a loved one sacrifice themselves. That's got to be a pretty harsh guilt trip.

HPGal3: Hmm, good point about Jinn not feeling Obi-Wan. We'll just chalk it up to the fact that Obi-Wan was probably blocking his kids right until the end in order to stop them from feeling the pain he was in.

littlefists: I'm actually really having a lot of fun combining aspects of Padme and Obi-Wan. Jinn has been interesting to write.

PorcelainHeart94: I think it would be interesting from Vader's perspective as well, but I don't want to switch away from Padme now. Maybe sometime I'll do a companion piece.

Lalez: Vader will let him leave, and Obi-Wan has a theory on why. I'm not going to focus on Jinn, because I want to stay with Padme's perspective. I'm am considering writing a companion story about Jinn, though. We'll see.

ObiBettina7: Obi-Wan may just do that.

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

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Vader kept his word: from an observation window, he'd allowed her to see Jinn loaded into a transport. Once the ship he was on came out of hyperspace, he even allowed her to watch, via hologram, as her son was loaded into an x-wing and set adrift in space. The x-wing had no hyperdrive—Jinn couldn't follow the imperial forces back to the _Death Star_. She knew this, because there was also a recording device inside the x-wing, where she watched her son dissolve into sobs until a rebellion ship came to pick him up. Then, the x-wing was abandoned, Jinn was gone, and she knew she'd seen her last glimpse of her child's face.

"I had forgotten it was possible to be that young," Vader said almost conversationally from behind her. "He was just a child."

She folded her arms over her chest and wiped away her tears before slowly turning around to fix him with a glare. "I hardly think that was what deterred you from killing him. We both know you have no qualms about murdering children."

"I do about murdering _your_ children," he replied coldly. "Even if he is Kenobi's…"

"Once, Obi-Wan Kenobi was like a father to _you_."

Vader's fists clenched, and she imagined she could hear gears grinding. Anakin had done that sometimes with his mechanical hand when he'd been very frustrated. Apparently, Vader had retained the habit.

"He took everything I cared about away from me. My limbs, my children, my wife—"

"You fail to give me enough credit. He didn't _take_ me, as you so eloquently put it—I decided to go with him. I asked him to help raise Luke and Leia. _I_ was the one who suggested that we sleep together."

She'd expected the smack to her face that followed. It still hurt, and she tumbled backwards, but she'd been prepared for the eventuality. In some ways, she'd almost looked forward to it, if only because every mistake he made was another case against him—another reason for her to validate her hostility towards him.

Whatever her reason, she got up smirking, wiping the blood from her face. She'd passed the point of caring what he did to her. "He didn't hit me, either."

"He twisted your mind," Vader snapped, brandishing a gloved fist at her in emphasis.

"Because he didn't hit me?" she countered, her smirk growing. She was going to die anyway when the _Death Star _exploded—why not try to get him to kill her a little sooner? At the very least, it felt good to finally be able to direct her anger where it belonged.

Vader let his hand drop. "I should not have let your son go. You are not keeping your end of our bargain."

"Well, I learned from the best about what it means to pledge your word to someone. Remember that ceremony on Naboo? Anakin Skywalker pledged to uphold his vows to me forever—"

"Everything I did, I did for _you_!"

She pushed her hair out of her face and fixed him with a look so full of venom that she was surprised it didn't poison her face. "You abandoned our love."

"I did no such thing."

He was insufferable. Only a coward or a child refused to take responsibility for his own actions. "Because you say so? Darth, I know that when you say jump, all your stormtroopers ask for directions to the nearest cliff, but I am far less inclined to simply accept something because you say it. Just because you choose to _say_ you're not at fault does not make it the truth. You won't get absolution from me."

"You would be wise not to anger me, Padme. The rebellion _will _fall eventually—I may have let Kenobi's son go once, but I will not be so generous a second time."

She had no reply for that: her only response was one that was for herself only, and it came in the form of a promise that she would kill Vader with her bare hands before he harmed _any_ of her children… and Jinn was not exclusively the one in danger. He was in the most physical peril, certainly, but she had no doubt that Vader intended to attempt to twist both Luke's and Leia's minds also.

"Think on what I have said," Vader finished. "I will return later."

"Not with any luck," she muttered under her breath as he strode out the door, his black cape swishing ominously around his ankles. With any luck, he'd soon be dead, and her with him.

She only had to wait.

* * *

"You shouldn't have come after me."

The words were hazy, vague, twisting together with the threads of sleep that still partially eluded her until it was all a tangled mess. Logic and reason were there, but not, and as she hung halfway between consciousness and slumber, her mind felt as strung-out as those of druggies in the lower levels of Coruscant. She was dreaming. That was it.

Or, perhaps not.

From her place on the floor next to the bed, Padme rolled over, blinking sleep from her eyes. The room was dark, with the exception of the pinpricks of light provided by the stars outside the window… and the blue glow of the figure in front her.

"I'm dreaming."

There were few other explanations. This was either a dream or she'd gone insane, which, truthfully, was a very real possibility. A person could only take so much stress before cracking. It was conceivable that she'd reached her breaking point.

Rubbing a hand over her eyes, she tired to convince herself to wake fully. She didn't want to have dreams like this—reality hurt too much as it was, and she didn't need to wake to feel loss when she realized everything was all a figment of her overactive imagination.

"You're not," the figure in front of her told her solemnly.

Obi-Wan looked young. His hair was the same strawberry blond it had been when he'd been younger, and it fell in the way it had around the time when Jinn had been conceived. That was very like Obi-Wan—he'd give her a subtle hint at a happier time rather than verbally reminding her. When he'd been alive, she'd grown to both love and hate that: it had always been a delightful puzzle to attempt to figure out what bit of affection he was conveying through his actions; it had been equally as frustrating when he wouldn't come out and tell her when something was wrong.

"I've finally gone insane, then?"

He chuckled. "Not quite."

Under her fingers, the blanket she'd been sleeping on began to wrinkle as she clenched her hands. Noticing the motion, she released her grip and pulled the blanket over her lap. It wasn't for the sake of modesty—she was still fully dressed in the clothing she'd been wearing when she'd come here and, besides, if this truly was Obi-Wan, it wasn't as though modesty was an issue. "I—_how_?"

"All that mediation I did on Alderaan? I learned how to commune with Qui-Gon in the Force. This…" he glanced around, looking more than a little amused. "_This_ is what I learned."

She laughed. The noise echoed off the durasteel walls, sounding as harsh and humorless on the rebound as it had when it had left her mouth. "That's certainly a significant learning experience." How in the world had he never mentioned _that_? Of course, it wasn't so unbelievable. He had always tried to shield her from things that pertained to Vader, the war, and the eventual possibility of his participation in dangerous activities. It wasn't such a stretch to think that he'd have lumped this into one of those categories.

"And you're angry I didn't tell you?" he guessed.

"It would have been nice to have some forewarning about the fact that when Vader skewered you with a lightsaber, you wouldn't actually die."

"Oh, no, I'm very much dead."

He sounded almost cheerful, but a glance at his face revealed the sadness that lurked there, just below the surface. Being one with the Force had to be wonderful, she guessed—but not as blissful as it could be if his family were not still in danger.

"I assume I'll be joining you shortly."

He rubbed a hand over his chin in a contemplative gesture he'd never quite abandoned, even after he'd done away with his facial hair. "The rebellion is indeed organizing for a strike."

"And?"

"And we'll have to see."

"So, you don't know?"

"One of the drawbacks of this state is that I am not entirely one with the Force yet. I'm afraid that limits trivial things such as omnipotence," he explained, his lips quirking in a small smile as he slipped his hands into the sleeves of his robe.

Despite the situation she was in, she smiled back. Then, keeping her eyes on him—because if she looked away she feared he might disappear—she drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. How foolish she must look: she still hadn't showered, her hair was spilling down her back and across her legs in a dark trail, and her clothing was rumpled from sleeping in it… yet, she hardly cared. Soon, she wouldn't have to worry about a body anyway. That was a rather freeing—if slightly morbid—thought.

"I'm not afraid to die, Obi-Wan."

"I know. You shouldn't be."

"I _am_ afraid for the children. Especially Jinn. He's so young."

At the mention of Jinn, Obi-Wan's expression shifted to something that could easily be construed as weary. "He shouldn't have come charging in here with no good plan for getting out. Clearly, he's nothing like his mother, who certainly did not do the _exact same thing_."

In an odd, twisted way, she found his reprimand almost comforting… at least in the manner in which he delivered it. Sarcasm had always been Obi-Wan's signature, and there was something reassuring about being faced with it now. It proved that he wasn't gone—that this figure in front of her truly was the man she'd spent the last twenty years of her life with.

"I'm surprised Vader let him go," Padme murmured, sighing. "It doesn't seem like him."

"No, it doesn't. But it does seem like something _Anakin_ might do."

As if she wanted to hear that. He should _know_ that she wouldn't. Angrily, she fixed him with a glare and threw her knees back down to the pile of blankets under her, pressing her hands down on either side of her body as she leaned back. "How can you even mention him?"

"I don't believe he's completely gone, Padme."

"Because he let Jinn go? He was just trying to toy with me, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Perhaps. Or it's possible he simply couldn't bring himself to kill your child. He confessed as much to you."

"Because he was trying to _manipulate _me."

"Yes, but also because Anakin Skywalker loved you… and Jinn is a part of you. He saw that. He looked into the face of a child who looks a great deal like me, saw past that, and saw you… and that was enough to stop him from committing another in a long line of murders. A man who is purely evil does not look that deeply. He sees the face of his enemy in his enemy's child. If he was completely lost to the dark, he should have seen nothing but me in Jinn. Instead, he chose to see _you_… and he elected to let Jinn go because of that."

"He's _gone_, Obi-Wan," she spat out angrily. Anakin didn't exist anymore, and she didn't appreciate Obi-Wan making it harder than it already was to look Vader in the face... or the mask. It hardly mattered. The mask only made him less human. It was so much easier just to consider her former husband dead and gone when all she saw was a black covering over his face.

"I believed that, but I'm not sure I still do. I sensed the conflict he felt when he saw you, Padme. There was good. I'm sure of it. There could be no conflict within him if there wasn't at least a bit of good."

How foolish to think of this now. Vader and Anakin—_both_ of them—had ruined her life, and whether or not there was a flicker of light in him, she knew she no longer had it in her to fan that spark into a flame.

"No," Obi-Wan agreed with a nearly indulgent smile. "You don't. But his children might."

"_Your_ children," she snapped, clenching her jaw until the muscles of her face felt strained. She chose not to comment on the fact that he was listening to her thoughts, but only looked away furiously, forcibly squashing the part of her which reasoned that, if she did so, Obi-Wan would leave. He wouldn't leave. He'd never abandoned her. He wasn't like Anakin. Even now, he always came back.

"Yes. My children, too. I'm rather proud of them, you know."

There was a whisper of air at her side, and she looked up to find Obi-Wan kneeling next to her. Reflexively, she reached out to touch him, only to find her hand caught in a gentle, invisible grip. His hands remained at his sides. It was disconcerting.

"Don't be so eager to touch the Force in its pure form just yet," he gently admonished, softening his words with a smile.

She loved that smile. Even after Obi-Wan had gotten older, it had still reminded her of a little boy, quick and lively. Her anger from the moment before drained away in the face of that smile, and she returned the gesture sadly, even if it felt completely out of place on her face. "With any luck, I'll have that chance shortly."

He nodded. "Our children always had a destiny. We both knew that. It's comforting to know that it outstrips my own."

"Yes. Very." It was comforting to think that her children's destiny was greater than hers. Oh, it _was_. A belief like that—it smoothed over all the times she'd failed and the mistakes she'd made. Her children would do it better, because they were meant for greater things than she.

"You misunderstand me," he began again, stroking a hand over his chin. "I don't believe that destiny is finished with you just yet. There's still more that you've got to do, and I believe that what's still unfinished is likely to be as important as anything else could possibly be. But restoring peace to the galaxy—cleaning up the mess of their parents—I'm fairly certain that will fall to our children. Our work is just about done."

"And what was our purpose?"

At first, she thought she was imagining the way his image began to flicker. It was only her insecurities, she reasoned. Though, really, wouldn't he have to leave eventually? And now _did_ seem to be the time, because he glanced down, acknowledging the change in his form. "It's cheating to look ahead to the ending, Padme—we don't get to know that just yet. I'm only speculating based on what I've observed."

"Obi-Wan!" She reached out again, desperate to touch him, but her fingers were blocked by another invisible touch. This one intertwined with her hand, like fingers slipping in between hers.

"But whatever our ending—our _purpose, _if you will—is, I have a feeling it will be too complex to define, yet simple enough to be the most satisfying thing in the world. Maybe it won't even be something that can be obviously attributed to us. Maybe we'll have had many purposes. Or, maybe we'll have a defining moment that changes the fate of the galaxy. It's very curious to think about, isn't it?"

The invisible fingers gave her a light squeeze, and he smiled, clearly taking pleasure in his half-teasing. He was happy, she realized. He was happy in the Force, happy to exist while he waited for her, and then eventually the children, to join him.

Who else was he waiting for? She didn't want to think about it, though she was certain she knew.

"Don't leave," she murmured, trying to hold onto the touch that was fast fading. It was like trying to hold water, only this time it was invisible fingers that were slowing slipping through her hold as surely as the lake water of Naboo ever had. "Obi-Wan—"

"I'm not leaving."

"I can't see you." And she couldn't. She could still feel him, but even that was growing fainter, less tangible, and soon would probably vanish altogether. She wanted him to stay, at least through the night, because as much as she didn't want to admit it—as much as she wanted to present a cold, hard front to Vader—there was a part of her that was like a little girl in the dark. Locked alone in this room, with nothing but the light of stars, she felt her solitude incredibly keenly, and it frightened her.

In so many ways, she was afraid of the dark.

"Do you need to see me?"

"Yes! Obi-Wan, stop it. Just—just… can't you stay?"

"I never left, Padme."

It was true. He hadn't. He'd always kept his word and come back. "And now?"

A pause, and then, "I'll stay until you're asleep."

"What else could you possibly have to do, anyway?" she murmured, sinking back down into the mess of blankets, trying not to let her relief radiate _too _clearly in the Force. She likely failed—she _knew_ she did—but he said nothing about it.

The Force swept around her, dancing over her skin in the purest form of a chuckle that she'd ever felt. "I told you: our children have a destiny."

A smile crept over her face as she relaxed into the gentle presence surrounding her. This was the Force, he was the Force, and it was comforting. "When you speak with them, tell them I love them."

"They know."

"Tell them anyway."

The Force whispered down her arm in a gentle, comforting caress. "I will."

"I love you, too."

He was silent, and with the lack of noise, she began to drift off, content in the knowledge that he was still there. She hadn't expected him to reply: he had never been much for openly declaring affection, and she'd never really needed him to. It simply hadn't been their relationship. She'd had that with Anakin, and she'd learned that words could deceive: she'd come to far prefer Obi-Wan's method of showing her how he felt rather than any series of attractive, well-spoken words that he could have given her, and if she'd sometimes wished to hear a confession just for the sake of hearing it, then what of it? She knew that she couldn't have everything, and she was happy with what she had.

The blankets were warm, even in the cold space created, and she snuggled down into them, closing her eyes. His presence was comforting, and though part of her demanded that she stay awake, knowing that he'd leave once she fell asleep, she hadn't slept well in days, and the idea of sleep was alluring. It was also possible that he was helping her along with the Force as he'd done sometimes back home. Either way, she could feel herself slipping away.

Then, just as she drifted off, she heard it, whispered in her ear so softly that she almost missed it. It was just the barest hint of breath, but still more than enough. "I love you," he murmured.

She fell asleep smiling.


	11. Chapter 11

Dysmorphology: Thank you very much for the encouragement! It's always nice to hear. :) About Vader pretty much stalking his kids: it's kind of both of the options you mentioned. He knows they're his children, he knows they're strong in the Force, and the reason he wants the twins is pretty much the same reason he wants Padme back. Anakin always had a deep desire for a family—I think that's a central part of the reason why Luke was able to redeem him.

Anakinpadmekenobi: Well, I can't actually tell you whether there's good in him or not… that would ruin the ending. Though, I suspect you can probably guess which theory is correct :)

Estora: I'm curious—have you real "The Cell" by obaona? That's some Obi-Wan/Padme that I also found really in character. Also, I'd say your assessment of their relationship is exactly correct. Haha, and yeah, I did talk about Anakin's need for verbal reassurance in Fire and Ice! Thanks for remembering that. :) Also, I'd say your standard is quite good as well—I've read some of your newest story, and it's very good—the only reason I'm not following it all that closely is that I don't like anything beyond a familial/friendship relationship between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Oh, and feel free to leave lengthy reviews! I love reading them!

GalaxyPink: Heh, funny you should mention her wanting to kill him that way—she mentions that in this chapter. Never underestimate a mother…

ObiBettina7: Obi-Wan's sarcasm may just be what makes him my favorite character. It's just such an intelligent, dry, irreverent humor. The story will stay with Padme POV.

: I'm glad you're enjoying his sarcasm. It's a lot of fun to write. :)

fayowin2: I'll do my best to check it out!

pronker: I always both loved and hated that all-knowing/not saying habit of Obi-Wan's. It drove me nuts, but it also stopped him from being just a cookie-cutter wise old hermit and made him into someone far more real. Watching the movies, he seemed like a man who was dealing with the fact that he didn't want to tell his best friend's son who his father had become, which belayed the underlying emotional agony he had gone through. I always saw his decision to sort of lie to Luke largely as an emotional one. To me, that made him seem far more human, complex, and fun to write.

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Sorry for the long break between updates. I'm on vacation right now, and I've been really, really busy.

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Vader had woken Padme the next morning. He hadn't needed to touch her to wake her—she had felt his darkness, or quite possibly just his presence. She didn't need the Force for that. Ordinary people could tell when a dangerous presence was watching them.

Once she'd never felt safer than when Anakin was with her.

What a lie. What a beautiful, heart-breaking lie. This creature before her was not Anakin. Her husband was dead and gone, and she shouldn't hate Vader for that, but she _did_.

Hate was an easy thing. It crept in when a person wasn't looking and took root, choking his insides until nothing else could grow. Padme was no exception in that respect. She was only human, only someone trying her best to overcome the mistakes of the past, and at least she _was _still human—as hard as all the faults that came with being human could be, when faced with Vader, it seemed a blessing.

She thought about those things sometimes, especially now when hate was all around her. She knew it was inside her, but it wasn't like it was with Anakin. She hadn't let her hate consume her. She couldn't deny feeling it, but neither would she let it grow to choke out those relationships that were steeped in love. She wouldn't let Vader ruin her love.

"We're approaching the rebel base."

She continued staring out the window, her back to Vader. Behind her, there was a table set with her favorite foods—or the foods that had been her favorite when she'd been Anakin's wife—arranged beautifully and, if she wasn't mistaken, in a way that was reminiscent of the meal they'd shared when he'd escorted her home to Naboo that first time.

There would be no playful flirting this time. He wouldn't smile at her, cut her meal for her, or levitate things with the Force. He probably would still do the later two if she asked, but Darth Vader could no more smile than the wall behind him could and, in her mind, that was just an outward indication of everything else he could no longer feel or be. No joy, no happiness—he was more machine than man now.

"I can give you everything you want, Padme."

She gave him no reply—they had addressed this time after time already, and her answer was still the same, as he well knew.

"Your children will soon be my prisoners. Think of them."

"They aren't your prisoners _yet_, Vader."

"And when they are?"

"Then we'll talk."

"You agreed to cooperate if I let Kenobi's son go."

"As I said, I learned to lie from the best."

A knock at the door interrupted them both. Padme could no longer see Vader's facial expressions, but his frustration was obvious in the abrupt, sharp wave of his hand that he used to open the door. The mechanics of the doorframe creaked a little in protest at the forcefulness of his command.

An imperial officer was waiting in the hallway, hands behind his back and spine straight to the point where he crossed the line from standing at attention to looking simply foolish. His stance reminded Padme of her children when she'd measured them at various times during their more formative years: they'd taken deep breaths and stretched themselves upward, trying to be as tall as they possibly could. Frankly, judging from the fear in his eyes, she also expected him to imitate her children's childhood tendency to flinch back from something they feared. It was understandable that Vader could have that effect, but despite all his posture, it was clear that this man didn't have much of a backbone.

Padme watched in something close to callous amusement as the man's gaze skittered nervously over Vader; tentatively he stepped into the room. "My Lord, there is evidence that the rebels have obtained a complete read-out of this station."

Vader showed no shock, but she supposed that was easier since he no longer had to hide any of his facial expressions. "Is there evidence of an imminent attack?"

The man nodded. "An attempt, likely in the coming week."

For a moment, Vader was motionless. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Inform them that Padme Amidala is still on board. Any attack would put her life at risk."

"My Lord," the man started to say, his face tight and pinched, clearly fearing the retribution that would come with disagreement. Smart man. Though, he should have known what he was getting into when he signed on with the Empire. It was a little late for regrets now. "Negotiation with these people is not what the Emperor has in mind—"

"Did I ask for your opinion, commander?" Vader snapped, raising a gloved hand. Though his fingers remained in a fist, the warning was clear.

The man swallowed hard, probably imagining how the Force would feel around his neck. "No, my Lord."

"You will inform the rebellion of this. I do not care what methods you use. Broadcast her presence openly if you please. Just insure that the rebellion will hear."

Foolish… and underhanded. Vader claimed to care for her, but his actions spoke of his true nature. Love didn't prompt someone to use the object of his affections in such a way. "They won't stop," Padme snapped, widening her stance in unconscious preparation for the confrontation she suspected would follow. "They already know I'm still here."

He turned slightly, regarding her from behind his dark oculars. There was no way to discern whether or not the information had caught him by surprise, but she suspected that it had. He likely assumed that since she'd never worked with the rebellion, she wouldn't have told them of her plans to attempt to rescue Obi-Wan. Had she possessed all the information on Obi-Wan's disappearance originally—had she not needed Bail's help—he would have been correct. She would not have consulted them.

"Inform Luke and Leia Skywalker that I will trade their mother's life in return for their freedom."

She lashed out before she stopped to consider the consequences. Those were her children, everything that was still good in her life, and she would tear Vader's life support system out with her bare hands if that was what it took to save her children—

Vader caught her with the Force, and with a care that she wouldn't have expected, deposited her in a chair, holding her there.

"Do as I say," Vader instructed the commander, one hand still held in her direction, effortlessly pining her down.

"It will be done, My Lord."

"For your sake, I hope so."

The commander looked _almost_ pathetic enough to garner Padme's sympathies. He was just a subordinate, as afraid of death at the hands of his leader as any of the enemy was. She should be sympathetic.

She was not. He knew the evil he was serving when he joined the Empire. Regarless of whether he was a worried, pathetic excuse for a man, he was still serving evil, and she had no sympathy for that.

Without a backward glance, the imperial officer hurried from the room, no doubt anxious to be free of the presence of a man whom he clearly suspected wanted to crush the life out of him.

"We will be a family, Padme," Vader repeated once the man was gone and the door was shut. Even with the voice syndicator, his tone seemed almost softer, as if he were half-begging.

Narrowing her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin. She'd exude defiance right up to the end. Perhaps, if she were favored with a stroke of luck, the rebels would implement their plan before Vader had the chance to implement his.

"We will never be a family, Vader. By attempting to make my children come here, you are doing nothing more than bringing them into contact with a man who would seek to destroy them."

"Do you speak of myself or the Emperor?"

She snorted softly in disbelief. "Either."

"You will see reason with time, my wife."

"The only thing I hope to see is you writhing on the ground in pain as your life drains from what's left of your body."

Bitter words, yes, and perhaps she didn't entirely mean them. She wasn't a cruel woman and, truthfully, if she had the choice, she would have set everything back to a time when she was alone on a lake terrace with a young Jedi padawan. If she could, she would return to that day…and she would never give Anakin that kiss.

She would have still saved Anakin Skywalker if she could have.

"You will change your mind when our children are here," he snapped.

His resolve was obvious in the way he strode toward the door, quick and clipped, like a man who knew exactly what needed to be done and intended to do it. That, at least, was still reminiscent of Anakin.

And when he was gone, and she was alone again, locked behind metal and other unbreakable barriers, she sank back down into the chair and cried, just like she had when she'd seen the temple burning, when she'd landed on Mustafar, and when she'd realized just what her husband had turned into. She cried for the mess her life had become, and most of all for the loss of the good man who had been her husband.

That, at least, was still reminiscent of the woman she had been when she'd loved Anakin.

The woman who composed herself an hour later, dry-eyed and bitter, bore not traces of that person.

-------------------

Padme did not see Vader for three days. That waiting was worst of all. No one would tell her anything, and she was attended to by droids only, leaving her unable to glean any clues from body posture or facial expressions. She had nothing. No word of her children, but just her own thoughts for company.

The room she was in had gray metal walls, and was about as dreary as a place could get. If Vader hadn't already been evil when he'd come to a setting like this, she half suspected that the depression induced from his surroundings probably would have turned him to the dark side anyway. Even though the furniture in the room was comfortable, she loathed its black color, and longed for the simpler pieces of her home on Alderaan. Obi-Wan had made many of those pieces, and what he hadn't made he'd bought cheaply on his trips into town. These pieces had been manufactured impersonally, and held no touch of family.

Nothing in this place did. It was all smothered in the dark side.

When Vader did finally come to see her, he simply stood in the doorway of her room, silent and dark. She stared back.

"Not gloating?"

She didn't like how comfortable the smirk felt on her face. She didn't want to be this person—this cold, angry human being—but when faced with Vader, it seemed as though she could feel nothing else. She couldn't even feel the desire to _want_ to feel something else.

"I have what I want. That is all the satisfaction that I need." He took a step into the room. "Padme, I have no desire to fight with you. I do not wish to bait you. I will give your children to you if only you will consent to my demands."

His demands? Considering he hadn't expressly spelled out exactly what those were, she could only imagine that they would grow with every passing day. No, she would not consent. She would not condemn her children to a life living under this monster.

"No."

She imagined Vader would have sighed angrily if he could have. Instead, he only spun around sharply, putting his back to her, like a silent barrier of black meant to block her out. "Luke Skywalker is powerful in the Force. Leia Skywalker less so, though still above average. Their abilities are both considerable."

"Well, their father did train them well."

"Don't try me, Padme."

"Or what?" she asked, walking over to the metal wall and leaning back against it. The chill of the material seeped through her clothes and down into her skin, but the action was casual enough to almost be insulting, and the discomfort was worth the image it gave off. "You'll kill me? By all means," she offered, holding out her arms mockingly, "here I am."

"I would never kill you, Padme."

That was just somehow so wrong to hear in a synthesized voice. The words held the echo of Anakin Skywalker, but there was nothing else left of him, and nothing visible enough that she could really see him in that confession at all. Perhaps he still saw himself as her husband, but to her, he was the furthest thing from the man she'd loved. Nothing Vader could do would change that.

"I have our children here."

A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the ship drifted over her, and she wrapped her arms around her torso for warmth. She'd finally given in and bathed a few days ago, but she'd refused to wear any of the clothing Vader had gotten for her, preferring instead to scrub her own clothes clean. She was glad. Taking clothing from Vader would be like having that chill she was feeling now stuck against her skin.

"I want to see them." She'd logically known from the moment he'd walked in that he likely had them in his custody—Luke and Leia would have most certainly given themselves over in an attempt to save her—but to hear him state it in such bland terms turned her stomach. She needed to see that they were unharmed.

"And you will."

"I want to see them _now_."

Vader seemed to draw his shoulders back further, increasing his height by an inch or so. "Padme, I do not wish to take you before the Emperor, but if you will not consent to _me_, then he demands it."

Sidious? She supposed she should have expected that, but somehow she'd thought of this as a fight that was solely between her and Vader. She'd never truly considered the thought of anyone else being brought into it. She hadn't thought he'd do it.

"If that is where my children are, then by all means, bring me to see him."

"You do not know what you ask," he replied icily.

She would have loved to rip his mask off and let him gasp for the air he couldn't take in on his own. He would deserve it for what he was doing. "And, yet, you allowed your children to be turned over to him—a man you clearly consider dangerous."

"You do not know the power of the dark side. I _must_ serve my master."

_Must?_ Force, that was pathetic. It was just an excuse, and a coward's one at that. Only a man too afraid or disheartened to try would use such a reason. "The man I married loathed serving anyone. You chaffed under Obi-Wan's authority for years, and I suspect he was far more lenient than Sidious. You are a coward, Vader. You railed against a man who loved you, but you obey one who would kill you if he had a suitable replacement."

She knew she'd hit home. It was nothing obvious—there was no movement to indicate it, but that might have been the biggest clue of all: she'd silenced him, and whether as Anakin or Vader, he always had a retort.

"The Emperor will show you the error of your thinking," he said finally.

She scowled. "There is no error for him to show me."

He remained at his post by the door, and only answered calmly, though with a hint of challenge, "We will see." Then, fluidly, he turned his back to her.

She expected more, but nothing came. For a man—creature, machine?—who was about to face his children, he was eerily emotionless, in a way that Anakin Skywalker never could have been. Anakin's emotions had been his downfall—he had never failed to feel _something_, and he had always showed it. This emotionless creature in his place was something Padme could not fathom.

"They are the children of the man you once were_._ You would use them as bargaining chips?"

Finally, she saw the beginnings of a reaction as he spun back around from where he was facing the doorway, staring at her from behind his dark mask. At least, she thought he was. He could have had his eyes closed, trying to block out the whole situation, and she never would have known.

For the first time, she envied him the use of a mask.

"I want us to be a _family_."

The sheer _absurdity _of that trapped the breath in her chest, and, unexpectedly tears began to prick at her eyes. A _family_? Force, he had ruined _everything__. _"We can't be a family," she spat. "Look at what you've done! What you've become!"

He didn't move. "Our children are here. We have the chance, Padme."

She pushed herself to her feet, hands on the wall for stability. She hadn't slept well since the night Obi-Wan had visited, and it was catching up with her now, fatigue in the face of the stressful prospect of finding a way to save her children from this confrontation and, most of all, from the knowledge she knew it would bring. "_My_ children, Vader. Mine and Obi-Wan's."

She had no time to brace herself before something slammed into her side, smashing her into the chair so violently that she tipped over the back of it, crashing to the floor. The impact stole the breath from her lungs, and when she tried to cry out as her tooth jabbed through her lip, she found she could make no sound.

"Padme—"

He'd hit her with the Force, and _now_he wanted to make amends? Maybe help her up off the floor? She wouldn't allow it, not if she had to drag herself up by sheer willpower alone.

But she didn't. A light presence, like the summer breeze on Naboo, whispered past her before materializing on her arms: two hands slipped under her elbows, lifting her back to her feet. When she looked, there was nothing there, and though the touch was as real and solid to her as it would have been if Obi-Wan had been there in the corporeal flesh, she knew Vader had seen nothing.

Smirking, she spat the blood in her mouth out onto the floor and delicately blotted at her mouth with the back of her hand. When had she become this callous? She'd always been strong, but there was a difference between strength and all but smiling in the face of an enemy.

"If you want to endear yourself to _my_ children, leaving visible signs of your abuse is not an efficient way to do it," she pointed out.

His hand was stretched out towards her, though it lacked the threat of moments before. It was, by all appearances, an offer of genuine help, obviously of regret, though the way he dropped it in the face of her scorn, clenching it once, spoke of deep frustration at his inability to fix an impossible situation.

"The Emperor requests our presence."

"Are you sure that's the best place for a family reunion?" she asked sarcastically, trying to cover her shock.

He moved towards her, his cape flaring out behind him. "My Master has ordered it—"

"And like the obedient little lapdog you are, you obey," she finished, nodding. "All right." Maybe, with any luck, she'd find a way to escape on the way there. Corridors were a less secure location, after all.

And maybe she could find a way to steal a blaster off a clone.

Suicide was not the course she wanted to take. Truly, it was not. The idea of taking her own life seemed entirely wrong, but if it was what it took to get her children to leave this place, then she would do it gladly. She would do anything for her children, and it certainly was not as though she was afraid to die. She knew they would not leave without her, but if they could not all get out, then she would do what it took to insure that they left. They would not stay if there was no possibility of saving her.

Vader was not gentle when he closed a hand around her arm, pulling her forward. There would be bruises tomorrow… that was, if she was still breathing in the morning.

He pulled her down the hallways, not walking fast enough to cause her to stumble, but moving at a quick pace. Even though she loathed what he had become, she couldn't help but be slightly amazed at how well he'd adapted to the mechanics of his artificial limbs. He walked as easily as any man who was completely flesh and blood.

Was there even a heart in him anymore? She could hardly believe it, especially not after these last few days. Despite Obi-Wan's reasoning that he'd let Jinn live because of his lingering feelings for her, she found herself doubting it. Vader was manipulative. He was evil. No love could exist in him. Not anymore.

Could it?

Obi-Wan believed it could. Once, she had too, before the years of watching the results of his mistakes had corroded whatever hope she had left for his redemption. She'd believed him redeemable once.

But, no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise, she no longer could, and she found that the words which spilled from her mouth were less about trying to persuade him to return to what was good and more about the anger and bitterness that had festered inside of her toward him since the day he'd made the decision to abandon everything she'd ever loved about him.

"You say you want us to be a family, and, yet, you turn your family over to the man who pushed you into destroying it."

He didn't reply right away. Instead, he kept walking, speeding up slightly as though he could walk away from the accusation, even as he pulled her right along with him.

When he did speak, the words came out quickly and purposefully. "Do you mean for it to be so obvious that you hate me, Padme?" he asked, jerking her to a halt in front of a large door. It rose up in front of them, dark and imposing, and she shivered despite herself in anticipation of what she knew would be an unpleasant reunion. "I can sense the hate in you."

"You _would_," she snapped, "being so overwhelmed by it yourself."

"I do not deny that. But tell me, _wife_," he began, the fingers of his hand tightening slightly, "what separates you and me in our hate? Is it because mine drove me to embrace the dark side of a Force that you cannot touch? Can you honestly proclaim that, had you the same level of power in the Force that I have, you would not embrace the darkness in the Force that comes with hate?"

"I would _never_ do the things you have!" she spat, jerking back against his grip. He remained solid and unyielding, but the action felt good, as if she were at least doing _something_.

"No?" If he could have, she imagined that he might have laughed sarcastically. There was no physical indication of it, but it was something Anakin would have done when he was approaching anger, and she couldn't help projecting that onto Vader. "It is subtle, Padme. Your hate creeps in and overwhelms you, and it is so easy to reach for the part of the Force that is correlated to it. There is such power available, if only you will use your hate to reach out and touch it. You have never had that option, but can you truly say that if you had the chance to gain your revenge for all the things you blame me for, you would not be willing to accept the power of the dark side to do that?"

She would not consider it. She knew she had hate, but the idea that she was capable of the atrocities he had committed—it was not something she could even fathom.

"Without respect to the consequences? When you accept that power, there's a balance! You lose your ability to retain the light. In choosing power, you forsook love!"

His grip tightened more, and she gritted her teeth, determined not to show how much it hurt.

"That was not what I asked. You are not being truthful with yourself."

"No, Vader. The truth is, I can't touch the Force—it doesn't matter what I would do if I could. All that matters is that you gave in and embraced an easier, more seductive path. It doesn't matter what I _would _do; it matters what _you_ did."

"Perhaps. But I can still feel your hate for me. I think we make a fine pair, wife."

Not anymore. Never again. "Can you feel my love also?" Not for him, certainly, but still existent in her feelings for her children, for Obi-Wan, and for an Anakin that no longer existed. She loved so much, too much sometimes, because that love pushed through into hate when the things she loved were threatened. Was that what had happened to Anakin? Had he chosen to let that hate eclipse the love that had birthed it?

"I thought you said hate and love cannot coexist? That one must drive the other out?"

"In the Force, yes."

"The Force is in all living things, Padme. Some more than others, but still existent in everyone. I had greater consequences for my decisions because I had more power. But that does not mean that we are entirely different. You simply had the luxury of not having to check your emotions in fear that they would lead you to be consumed by the part of the Force to which they were connected. Only the amount of power separates you and I."

"You still _chose_ to fall," she whispered vehemently as he waved open the door.

He was silent for a moment, staring into the room beyond, toward a high-backed chair. "Yes," he agreed after a moment, sounding almost contemplative. "Yes, I did… and perhaps you will also."


	12. Chapter 12

GoldenRat: Thank you!

Anakinpadmekenobi: I'm glad you caught the thing about "wife". It's meant to be really impersonal, almost like he'd refer to a possession. See, the way I'm viewing it, there's still a tiny enough part of Anakin left in Vader to make him care for Padme, but that bit of love is so distorted by the dark that it comes out more as possession and obsession.

HPGal3: Em, that was a large problem with the Jedi Order, wasn't it? I was pretty happy when Luke discarded that when he rebuilt the Jedi.

Estora: Yes, Vader is being a bit of an idiot, isn't he? However, he doesn't actually intend to trade Padme at all—he's simply counting on the fact that Luke and Leia will come. I'm also glad you caught that line about Anakin having a problem with authority. Him listening to Sidious when he wouldn't listen to Obi-Wan never made much sense to me, and like I said in _Fire and Ice_, the only way I could begin to justify it was that Vader simply had nothing else left to live for. Lastly, thank you so much for the really detailed review. I always love to know that people are picking up the details that I work hard to put in. Thanks!

ObiBettina7: Vader is a bit deluded… but Padme is also in a pretty bad situation…

pronker: Good point about Padme not realizing that one feeling might flavor the other. Eventually, though, she's got to figure out which she's going to let dominate.

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

I'm not sure when the last part is going to be up, since as of right now, I'm not quite happy with the ending. Once I work it out, I'll post it. Thanks for sticking with me thus far! :)

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Palpatine was grossly disfigured. Padme had seen pictures of him on the holonet and had observed him from a distance in the last address she was present for in the Senate, but certainly never close in person—not since he'd come to look like this. She didn't know the true story behind the transformation, and she likely never would. In his announcements in the Senate, he had said it had occurred in the attack on his life, meaning that one of the Jedi must have at least been able to inflict some damage before he was killed.

Pity he hadn't been able to do more.

"Padme Amidala," Sidious drawled, a smile spreading over his features, revealing yellowed teeth. "It has been a very long time, Senator."

Senator? Not anymore. Not for a long time, and certainly not since he'd dissolved the assembly altogether. "_Chancellor_."

His smile only grew as he rose from his chair. "Time has not dulled your tongue, I see."

"Nor has it dulled your ambitions. Where are my children?"

She would have loved to wipe that smirk from is face. He was so condescending, so sure that whatever plan he had, it would succeed.

Reaching out, Sidious used the Force to open the door Vader had just brought her in. At the sound of metal on metal, Padme turned to the side, still half facing Sidious—she wouldn't turn her back on him completely—but glancing toward the door.

Her children stood there, hands cuffed behind their backs, and escorted by five clones.

"Luke! Leia!"

"Let them go," Sidious ordered with a casual wave of his hand. Even more oddly, she watched as the binders fell from their wrists, clattering uselessly to the floor.

She caught her children when they ran into her arms. Physically, they were holding her as much as she was holding them, but there was something about being the mother—some notion that she should be able to make anything better. These were her children, and it was her job to comfort. No matter how big they got, she would be holding them in all the ways that counted.

It was frustrating to guess that they must have been just behind her in the hallway, concealed only by a few passages. Sidious had likely planned it that way--he would have understood that the idea would irritate her, and that could only be to his advantage. He was so good at that—so good at working things to his advantage. She didn't know how she hadn't seen it before, in the way he played Anakin. He'd been manipulating all of them all along, and she hadn't noticed it until it was too late.

"Dad—we saw Dad," Leia murmured against her neck.

Padme nodded and stroked her hair. "Yes."

Luke's hand clenched where it rested on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. "He told us that Vader was—was—"

"I am your father."

Vader announced it so blatantly, with no regard for how they must feel. A father wouldn't do that. A father would care.

It was simply more proof that he was not a father.

Both Luke and Leia jerked away from her, falling to either side in a gesture that Padme doubted they even realized to be protective. Force, how wonderful it was to see. They fell in beside her, a family even now, even now that they _knew_. Vader was not their father. The man he had been had given them life, but the creature in front of them could never be a part of their family, because their family was willing to stand by each other.

Vader had left.

It was that simple.

Luke spoke first, with a tone that was even and controlled. So much a Jedi, and far more like Obi-Wan than Anakin had ever been. "Biologically, yes. But you are not the man who raised me."

"Because Kenobi stole you from me!" Vader seethed, shaking a fist at Luke in barely concealed rage. To his side, Padme saw the Emperor smile.

It was sickening. The man fed off Vader's rage. He reveled in it, encouraged it, and had spawned it to begin with. Still, it wasn't enough for him. He wanted her children, too. Like he had done with Anakin, he wanted to guide them down the slippery path to the dark side, intent on controlling them as well, always with the objective of amassing more power. Her children—and Anakin—were simply a means to an end for him.

She would not let him take them. Not ever. Luke and Leia were too good. They would not become like Anakin Skywalker.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi was the father that Anakin Skywalker was not there to be," Padme spat. "And the Anakin Skywalker that I loved would be thankful for that."

A sharp cackle drew her attention from Vader and back to the Emperor. "You loved a lie," he laughed, gazing out at her from under his hood. Force, those eyes. They were red and yellow, like the skies of the most polluted worlds. How could anyone want to fall in with the dark side after seeing that? How had Anakin believed that slipping into the darkness was good after he'd seen that gaze?

"No," she countered, leveling her shoulders back and meeting that gaze with her own solid brown-eyed stare. "You twisted my truth."

Sidious's lips drew back in a horrid smile, and he leaned further back in his chair, nodding at Vader. "Your son uses your old weapon."

From the folds of his cloak, Vader withdrew Luke's lightsaber—_Anakin's_ lightsaber—and made his way to his master's side, handing it to him. Padme wanted to scream in denial. Anakin would have never handed over that weapon. _This weapon is your life. _Obi-Wan had taught him better than that. That lightsaber had been part of who he was, and watching Vader hand it to Sidious was like watching Anakin yield to him all over again.

"Your father was a Jedi, young Skywalker," Sidious mused, running his pale fingers over the hilt, caressing the metal. Padme was reminded of a snake, curling around its prey before squeezing the life from it. "Like you."

Luke nodded. "I am a Jedi, like my father before me."

He did not, Padme know, mean Vader. Nor did he entirely mean Obi-Wan. Rather, he referred to something of both Anakin and Obi-Wan, the man who had given him life and the man who had raised him, the two Jedi, two brothers, and two best friends. Luke was a Jedi like them both.

And Padme was proud of him.

Sidious's lip curled. "And you will fall like your _true_ father before you."

"It is pointless to resist, my son," Vader told him tonelessly. "Both of you are destined to embrace the dark. My master has foreseen it."

Padme wanted to respond, and she would have, but her daughter beat her to it, stepping forward and staring Vader in the face with barely concealed contempt.

Of the twins, Leia was more like her biological father. She was bold, opinionated, and her brash temperament didn't soothe away the sting of her mannerisms like Luke's sweetness did for his own indiscretions. Still, she possessed a unique charm that kept people captivated and listening. It was a bold charisma, like Anakin's had been.

Leia laughed bitterly, titling her chin backwards in clear defiance. "Well, isn't that convenient?" she snapped sarcastically.

"You are my children, and—"

He never finished his sentence.

Padme was not entirely sure how it happened, but suddenly Luke's lightsaber was flying out of Sidious's hand and zipping into Luke's. Like a blaze of blue fire, the blade arched through the air, humming towards Sidious's head in a strike that would have been deadly…

…had Vader not blocked it with his own red blade.

Sidious laughed, and immediately Padme knew that he had meant for it to happen. He had manipulated them all… again. "Yes, good. Show your anger. I can feel your bitterness, your resentment toward the man before you. He left you. He harmed your mother. He killed the man you considered a father. Let yourself feel that."

The command wasn't meant for her, but still Padme felt. She felt_ cold_. The idea of her son giving into that, spiraling off the same way Anakin had chilled the innermost parts of her. He could not give in to that. He could not do what Anakin had.

"Luke, no!" She could not lose him this way. She could not.

And, perhaps, he could not quite stand to leave her in such a manner, either.

Luke pulled back, breathing hard, to stand beside her and Leia. There was a wildness in his eyes as he allowed his sister to slip an arm around his waist, holding him in a support that had nothing to do with the physical, but was every bit as important.

Padme stood beside them, breathing heavily. This could not happen. Her son was bitter, and her daughter could by no means be any better. Both would lose themselves to this, or die in the refusal. She and Obi-Wan should have told them sooner—should have given them time to come to grips with the monster that their father had become—but because they had not, they had given the Emperor a valuable tool, and one that he clearly intended to exploit.

Bitterness was powerful, and how could these children not resent Vader?

How could _she_ not resent Vader?

She burned with that resentment—with the hate it caused. There was hate for herself at her inability to save her children and deliver them from what was looking to be an impossible situation, and most of all hate at Vader for putting them into this position. She would do anything to save her children, and the fact that she couldn't do so killed her, ripping her apart in a way that she couldn't describe.

And with that realization, she found that she had never understood Anakin more.

Vader had been right. They were alike, she and Anakin, separated only by their level of power in the Force. He had fallen to the dark side for love—for the kind of love she was feeling now. He'd wanted so fiercely to save her that he had sacrificed everything… and she was prepared to do the same for her children.

She was no better than him.

The knowledge choked her, and she dug her nails into the flesh of her palms so fiercely that she drew blood. If she could save her children with hate, she would do it. She would do for them what Anakin had tried to do for her. She would give herself over to that hate if it saved the ones she loved.

_Hate has never delivered anyone, Padme._

Obi-Wan.

She hardly heard him through the cloud of darkness that seemed to have descended on her mind. All her thoughts were negative and black, but his words pierced in like a lone ray of light. They were logical, but so soft, gentle, and she remembered at the sound of him.

She remembered what it was like to love; to have a family; to know the feel of a body close to her own; of whispered words in the dark; the love of two men, so different from each other, but both beautiful in their own way. Both Obi-Wan and Anakin had been shatteringly beautiful—so broken themselves—but more perfect for those imperfections. Both had given her a family, and she loved that family, loved both of the men who had given it to her, and in that thought, she knew what Obi-Wan was saying, what he wanted.

He wanted his brother. He wanted Anakin back. He had not given up on him.

Love wouldn't let him.

And maybe love wouldn't let _her_, either.

"Obi-Wan," she murmured, so softly that no one could have heard.

_He is still there, Padme. Somewhere inside Vader, he is there. I know it. _

She had not forgiven Vader… but she had not stopped loving Anakin, either. She never had. She resented his fall, the choices he had made, but she still recalled the good man he had been: brash, impulsive, but so loyal, loving to the point where he had sacrificed his goodness to save her. He had tried. He had. But he had made a mess of things. He had broken everything.

_Yes, but Anakin always was good at fixing things, Padme. He simply needs help this time._

Love or hate. It was that simple. She had the same choice Anakin had. She could become like her husband, a creature consumed by her hate; or she could choose to love, and accept the path that choice led her down. It could mean the death of her children… but they would die in the light.

Or, it could mean their salvation… and their father's as well.

"ANAKIN!"

Vader jerked at the sound of a name he'd likely never thought he'd be addressed by again. Not by her, certainly. Beside her, the children started, and Luke pulled his sister back, as if sensing the situation at hand.

This was her time, and in order to give her children the chance to fulfill the great destiny she knew existed for them, she had to fulfill her own first.

"Are you ready to come home _now_?" she asked the man inside of Vader, holding out her hands, reaching for something that she couldn't even prove existed. Anakin hadn't been ready that day on Mustafar, but perhaps now. Perhaps _now._

Sidious lunged forward. "Fool." His confident smirk had been replaced with a snarl, twisting his upper lip until it resembled a engorged grub. His hands were equally as nauseating, like fat snakes, slithering toward her, before splintering off into something blue that was far more alive and twice as deadly.

The Force lightning stole the breath from Padme's lungs, and she whipped backward, fighting for control that she never gained. The floor came up to meet her, and she slammed into it, screaming in pain.

She was on fire. Her very nerves were on fire. Liquid fire.

"Anakin!" she screamed. She would not hate. She would _not_. Until the end, she would think of the man who had been her husband, and if that was how she ended, then at least she would not end steeped in the dark.

"Mom!" she heard Luke scream, followed by a harsh crash. Was that Leia shouting in the background? She could not look up. The pain was too much. "MOMMA!"

This was her end, then. Had Obi-Wan been wrong? Was Anakin truly gone? Was only Vader left in his place? Oh, Anakin. Where was her Ani?

Tears leaked from her eyes, half from the pain, but more from the memory of a good man with clear blue eyes like the lakes on Naboo, and a love that had made her head spin. Such joy. She couldn't accept that it was gone.

_Anakin _could not be gone.

"Anakin, _please_!"

Her husband. Obi-Wan's brother and son. The man they had both loved. The good man. He couldn't be gone, and that must have been what Obi-Wan had seen—why he had believed Anakin was still existent, though suppressed and buried. He didn't believe that Anakin could leave, not when he had been so loved. And he was right. He had to be. Surely, she thought, gasping, he couldn't be fully gone when he was loved so much.

"Anakin!" she cried one last time. She could feel her body shutting down.

She was at her end… and at her beginning.

She had been wrong, she realized. Her destiny had not been less than that of her children's or of Obi-Wan's. She had simply wanted it to be. She hadn't wanted to push aside the ease of the hate that had formed inside of her. She hadn't wanted to love Anakin anymore in fear of the hurt that came with loving someone when there was a possibility that he was gone forever.

But, like it or not, her destiny had been to give Anakin this one last, final chance.

When the lightning coursing through her body faded into nothingness, she knew he had taken it.

----------------

Padme returned to consciousness to find herself greeted by the face of her daughter. "Mmm," she muttered, letting a smile curve over her lips. It was agony to move, but she raised a hand to cup her child's cheek anyway. There would be no pain in death—she could bear the hurt for a little longer in order to touch her child. "You're a beautiful sight, my Leia."

"Mom." There were tears on Leia's cheeks, and her jaw was clenched tight, as if she was trying not to dissolve into sobs. "He killed the Emperor, Mom," she whispered.

Padme didn't understand at first, and she only wrinkled her brow, twining her fingers around a stray piece of her daughter's hair. It had come loose from her normally neat braid, and was falling down over her forehead. "Hmm?"

"Vader," Leia choked out, nodding over to the side. "He killed the Emperor. Threw him into the power generator. But…" She paused then, taking a deep breath. "He wasn't quick enough."

No, clearly not. Padme could feel the irrevocable damage in her body. It wasn't what Leia was referring to, of course. She was talking about whatever she was nodding to—and Padme would look, just as soon as she could muster the energy to move her head—but that didn't make her own end any less true. Padme was dying.

_It is peaceful here. Death is not a fearful thing._

She smiled. "No, Obi-Wan, it's not," she murmured.

"Mom." Tears were trailing down Leia's cheeks in streams now. "Dad isn't here, Mom. _Mom_. Stay with me, Mom." She knew. Padme could see it in her daughter's eyes: she knew her mother was dying, whether she verbally accepted it or not.

Still, Padme wanted to see what she'd been originally referring to when she'd claimed Vader hadn't been quick enough.

Dropping her head to the side, she cast her gaze in the direction of Leia's previous nod. What she found would have caused her to take a quick breath, had she still possessed the strength.

Luke was bent over Vader who, like Padme, was sprawled on the ground. And Luke… Luke was removing his mask. Why? Vader would die.

_He's dying anyway, Padme. Nothing can stop that now. For either of you._

"We'll all be… together a-again," she remarked, her breath coming in wheezes.

"Mom? Mom! Oh, Force, Mom, please hang on."

Then, Luke was at her side too, hands on either side of her face, begging and pleading along with Leia. She would have liked to listen, but everything was getting further away. Dimmer, but somehow… clearer. Not this world, but something like... the Force? Maybe?

"You can't die, Mom," Leia sobbed.

Luke nodded, pushing her hair back and glancing over at Vader. "We have to save you. Both of you."

And just as Padme felt her last hold on consciousness fade, she heard Anakin, softly, but in a voice that was a raspy version of his own—not the synthesized tone of Darth Vader—murmur, "You already have, Luke. You… already have."

She died smiling.


	13. Epilogue

GalaxyPink: Now comes the epilogue!

PorcelainHeart94: I'm glad you found interesting the part about Padme possibly making different choices if her circumstances had been different. That was a point I was really trying to drive home, and it was also a large part of her eventual forgiveness of him. Thanks for reading and commenting!

T-man626: Thanks so much for making an exception and reading. I'm also glad you enjoy the use of dialogue from the movies. I like to play with lines and use them in different ways than how Lucas originally wrote them. It's always fun for me when I can slip something in.

HPGal3: Yes, sorry about Leia. :)

Estora: It's very strange how there are shades of Anakin in Vader, and yet he's completely different, isn't it? That always fascinated me. I'm also glad you found the bit about Palpatine "foreseeing" things funny. That bit of the movies always made me want to slap him. It's such a lazy excuse for why Luke should fall, but I kind of appreciate it because it makes me dislike Sidious all the more for his excessive presumption and arrogance. Also, you're entirely correct when you say this story isn't entirely (or even mainly) about Padme and Obi-Wan. They just happen to convey a lot of what it _is _about. Okay, lastly, thank you so, so much for the detailed reviews. I LOVE reading them—it makes me feel as though someone is taking the time to notice the little details I work hard to include (both in this and Fire and Ice). Thank you!

ObiBettina7: Yes, the whole thing with Anakin and Obi-Wan both being on the side of the light again does pose a problem as far as who gets Padme, doesn't it? At least, it would if corporeal laws still applied in death. :) I hope the explanation I give works for you.

pronker: Haha, yes, and here we go with the blue glowy zone! Also a favorite of mine! ;)

Disclaimer: I make no money off of this.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Again, thanks for your patience. The last part took me a while to edit to the point where I was mostly satisfied (I'm almost never completely satisfied). Thank you so much for taking the time to read!

-----------------

Obi-Wan had been right: it _was_ peaceful here.

Here in the Force, where nothing hurt, and she was no longer herself, but more herself than ever. It was a world of paradox, and Padme loved it.

How odd that, here, it was possible to ache for the loss she knew her children were feeling, yet not feel the pain of that ache. She desired to soothe it, but it no longer hurt her. Was that what pure love did? Did it drive out everything else?

Was that the true nature of the Force?

"Yes. But in life, it's easy to complicate pure love with other things."

Anakin looked young again, but somehow far more untainted than he ever had in life. Though he looked the age he was when he fell, the scar over his eye had vanished, and where there had once been gleaming metal or a leather glove, there was now an organic arm. And the light—that was best of all. It shimmered in his eyes and on his face, giving the sense that whatever had pulled him down had irrevocably lifted.

This was Anakin Skywalker as he should have been.

This was the Anakin Skywalker she had loved in life, even if she'd never fully seen him.

"I would know," he teased with a light, easy quirk of his eyebrow, so nonchalant and cavalier. He was still Anakin Skywalker, even now—he hadn't lost that.

"Yes, you _would_ know."

Neither had Obi-Wan lost his dry manner and sarcasm.

Anakin glanced over at him, grinning. Some days, Padme could hardly believe that all three of them had just entered the Force—not when they'd been there forever. They had _become_ forever, and time spun around that. They were the eternity ahead—they _knew_ the eternity ahead, just as they knew everything that _had_ happened.

It made things simple. There was no need for a reconciliation between them, because it had already happened, even if it had not.

It was a curious concept. How odd that she'd never comprehended how restraining time was until she was no longer bound by it.

"I want to see the children," Anakin murmured, arms crossed as his eyes danced with something suspiciously close to anticipation.

"You just did," Padme reminded him, though she couldn't quite hide the pulse of happiness inside her at the thought of looking at her children again. They'd already joined her here in the Force, but yet they hadn't. Again, a curious concept, and one she couldn't explain in terms of the finite. They were alive, and yet they were with the Force. It was that way for everyone. Death was only a loop. Everything was only a loop. It simply was what it was.

And it _was_ good.

Anakin shrugged. "Experience the moment again. It was a good one."

"Or perhaps another," Obi-Wan suggested.

She smiled. "You've already experienced them all."

"Yes," he agreed, "but also none at all. It never gets old." His clean-shaven face twisted into a smile. "I want to feel the first time."

And they did. Again… and also for the first time.

Her son was so handsome. He looked like Anakin. She could admit that now without feeling as though her chest were constricting with pain, but only with a vibrant sort of happiness and affection. And Jinn—Force knew, he was Obi-Wan's child. And hers. Also hers. Luke, Leia, and Jinn were all hers.

Her children were together, attending a celebration at the rebel headquarters, though certainly not for the reasons everyone else was. Everyone else present was celebrating the death of the Empire, and the end of the monstrosity Darth Vader. But not Luke, and Leia, and Jinn. They had left the main building where the celebration was in favor of an abandoned hanger… and they weren't celebrating at all.

They were grieving.

Rather, Jinn was—the other two were burying their hurt in favor of helping him. Jinn was still a child, too young to deal with any of this, and it was nearly beautiful how he was letting his sister rock him gently while he cried into her shoulder.

"Shhh," Leia murmured, face dry and eyes dead. "Jinn—" She had nothing to say that could truly help, and she knew it, so she simply stroked his hair and rocked him more while Luke sat beside her quietly.

Luke's eyes were so dull. Padme could feel his pain.

It would have hurt, had she not known it would fade.

"And it will, Mom," he said simply from behind her.

She, Obi-Wan, and Anakin all glanced over their shoulders, giving Luke—the Luke who was in the Force—their momentary attention. What a sight they must have made, all looking back like that, probably a little like a choreographed holovid. "Hush, Luke, your ruining it."

He just laughed. "We all know it's the next part you three want to see anyway."

"It's not as good without the buildup," Obi-Wan reminded him. "Pain makes happiness even more beautiful."

They turned back just in time to watch Leia press her cheek to her brother's head, holding him even more tightly. Leia was so strong, hiding her own pain in order to fight that of others.

"Her mother's child, at least in that," Anakin commented absently. Obi-Wan gave a small nod of agreement, hand smoothing over his chin as he watched his children.

"Why'd they have to go?" Jinn choked out, tear tracks staining the skin of his face. "Both of them."

From where he was seated beside Leia, Luke sank his fingers into his hair and pulled tight until it stuck out in tuffs from under his hands. Padme instinctively moved to comfort him—to show him that there was no reason for it to hurt anymore.

Obi-Wan's hand on her arm stilled her. "Wait."

"They did what they needed to in order to keep us all safe," Leia murmured, pushing a lock of reddish hair out of Jinn's eyes. The piece of hair was wet with tears.

"But—But Vader—"

"Isn't Vader anymore," Luke whispered.

Anakin sighed. "Never should have been. Might have saved the world a lot of grief."

Obi-Wan waved him off. "We wouldn't have gotten Jinn, then. Besides, it all turned out all right in the end." That was simply what forgiveness was… and it was impossible to hold grudges when those mistakes seemed such a small blip in time in the expanse of eternity.

"He died saving us," Luke murmured.

Jinn jerked back away from Leia, as if burned. How he looked at Luke—it was a touch insane, and quite obviously on the verge of blows. "HE KILLED MY FATHER!"

Luke threw himself to his feet, meeting Jinn as they both lunged forward. When they stopped, it was inches from each other, Luke still taller, but Jinn every bit as angry. It wasn't a fight either of them truly wanted. Brothers, nose to nose like that, angry—it wasn't pleasant. It never could be.

Padme waited contentedly for it to pass, knowing what came after.

Luke was the first to strike a blow: it sent Jinn reeling back, blood dotting his lip where Luke's fist had struck. "Don't ever say that!" he seethed, cheeks spotted with an angry red flush. "Obi-Wan Kenobi was my father just as much as he was yours!"

"Force, Anakin," Obi-Wan muttered, giving his friend a light shove as the watched, "it's a blessing that he learned to control that temper better than you did… at least eventually."

Leia stepped between the two just as Jinn launched himself at Luke. She managed to catch him, pushing him back away from his brother. "It's not—Jinn, Luke, it's not like that. You know it's not."

"I know that he's defending the man who killed my father!"

Anakin snorted. "Not exactly."

"It's a difficult distinction to make, Anakin," Obi-Wan reminded him. "At this point, it was a bit of a challenge for anyone other than Luke to separate Vader and Anakin."

Always at it, those two, even in death. It was playful—never mean, but always affectionate. Padme let herself just listen sometimes to the sounds she was once sure she'd never hear. Obi-Wan never completely gave up hope that he'd have this someday, but the easy bond these two had in death—it was beautiful, and sometimes it still hard to believe.

It was hard to believe they were all together again.

It wasn't like it had been in life. In life, there was the relationship between man and wife, father and son—things that would have created a problem. Both Obi-Wan and Anakin couldn't have had her. But here—it was so different here. Intimacy was different. It was soul on soul, pure love meeting affection—the kind of bond they had here transcended any sort of physical need. There were bodies, but there were not. It was all different—inexplicable—but it made it possible for all three of them to intertwine, separate essences, but together through the Force in death.

In life, all she'd experienced was the relationships she was capable of having. She never understood what it was to be a father or brother, to be a son. She never quite could comprehend that love. Here, it was all one thing. It was just love—every type. It was what they were.

And it was perfect. Nothing had ever been more perfect.

"Yes, well, can we step in _now_?" she asked, anxious for the best part.

Obi-Wan and Anakin stopped their mock argument. For a moment, they just looked at each other, grinning. "I suppose," Obi-Wan agreed finally.

Padme rolled her eyes. "That's what you always say."

"And you always ask to go speak to them early," Anakin reminded her. "It's just how it goes."

"You love it."

He nodded. "I do."

And then they faded out. No talking was necessary. They knew this part by heart after having done it so many times before, even if it was still the first time they had ever done it.

"Jinn," Leia tried to say, hand on his chest, pushing him back. Worriedly, she glanced at Luke, visually pleading for him to just stop. "He was Anakin at the end, Jinn. It wasn't Vader."

"All I want is my father and mother back!" Jinn raged, pushing against Leia. She let him go this time, watching helplessly as tears streamed down his face.

She shouldn't have worried.

Instead of anger, Luke caught him in a tight hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered as Jinn went limp, sagging against his chest and sobbing. He didn't truly want to fight. Not really, Padme knew.

"I want my parents," he choked out.

"And your parents will always want you."

This was her favorite part. This moment when the three children turned to look when they heard her voice, their heads snapping back, craning to look over their shoulders like she, Anakin, and Obi-Wan always did when Luke intruded on their conversation in the Force. Like a holovid. Like the fairy tales she heard on Naboo when she was younger.

And like those tales, her life had a happy ending.

It was why she loved this so much—because she knew her children would have that ending too.

"Mom?" Luke whispered.

Beside her, she felt Obi-Wan and Anakin materialize. Obi-Wan was appearing older, like he was when he died—like the children's most recent and familiar memory of him—while Anakin was the same as he was a moment before in the Force. She became something in between. Older than the girl-queen, but younger than when she'd died. A middle ground between what they chose. Hadn't she always been like that for them? More outwardly emotional than Obi-Wan, but far more tempered than Anakin? Neither casting duty aside for love or considering it her end all? She was always their compromise—their blend in the Force.

"Mom! Dad!" Jinn cried.

Her children. Her babies. They were so beautiful. All of them.

Somehow, they knew they couldn't touch their parents. They didn't try. Instead, they just stood and stared. All of them were crying now, but there were disbelieving smiles, and it was wonderful.

"We're very proud of you," Obi-Wan told them. "All of you."

Jinn took a step toward him. "Why did you leave?" he asked, face pinched, smile fading.

Obi-Wan took the smile Jinn had just dropped and gave a small shrug. "Where I am, Jinn, you've already joined me. Think of it that way."

"But I want you _now_, Dad!"

"And you have me. You always will. You will always have _all _of us."

Anakin, too, that meant. He was not Jinn's father, but what he was to Obi-Wan and Padme—it made him family. Jinn may not have understood it at the moment, but years later he would. Leia would accept Anakin, too. Luke already had.

Then, finally, they would all be together.

As Obi-Wan said, they already were.

Luke was staring at Anakin. "Why'd you do it?"

Anakin quirked an eyebrow and leaned casually in against Padme. "Fall? Or come back?"

"Both."

"Because of love."

"For which?"

"For both."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Anakin that's not a fair explanation."

It wasn't, of course. The children couldn't yet understand that everything went full circle. Eventually, in the place where she, Anakin, and Obi-Wan were now, cause became effect and the effect was the cause. Love started everything. Love finished everything. Anything in between was a blip, but one that was necessary for the light to have its final say. Everything that was wrong helped set up that final culmination of what was right.

In the end, even the darkness served the light.

"They'll understand eventually," Anakin argued.

They didn't now. That much was obvious, and it was enough to make Padme sigh. "He's right. You'll understand later. But not now. And you don't need to understand now. All that you need to know right now is that we all love you very much."

Leia blinked, wiping aside tears. "We love you too, Mom. Will you come back like this? You know, just every now and then?"

She smiled and leaned into the hand that Obi-Wan placed on her back. "You couldn't keep us away."

That was enough for now. They would be back. They weren't really even leaving at all. All they were doing was going back to the Force, where their children were already waiting for them.

It was just a change in reality.

Closing her eyes, Padme let her essence tangle with the two men beside her as they faded back into the light. It was so bright, shinning in her and around her and smoothing over the two presences within and beside her. Anakin and Obi-Wan. Then, moments later, the children, too. Friends. Family. Everyone that any of them had ever loved. So wonderful.

Everything was light.


End file.
